


I Find No Peace

by purrfectj



Series: Patience, Though I Have Not [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Anal Fingering, Dom!Kylo, F/M, Gratuitous Smut, Hux is still Hux, I Had to Make a Sequel, Inappropriate Use of the Force, Kylo is still Kylo, Light BDSM, Masturbation, Mind Control, Mind Games, Phasma is a good bro, Snoke is creepy, Unreliable Narrator, Updated so Hux's name is his canon name, Using quotations from the movies because I can, Voice Kink, dubcon, not quite a love story, some kink, some violence, sorry I'm not sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-13
Updated: 2016-03-02
Packaged: 2018-05-13 20:10:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 19
Words: 30,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5715523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/purrfectj/pseuds/purrfectj
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kylo Ren has been saved from death as Starkiller burns. The doctor tasked with caring for him, Kittani Juznik, has caught the notice of the Master of the Knights of Ren, General Hux, and, eventually, Supreme Leader Snoke.</p><p>A not-quite love story told in fits and starts. There's sex. Lots of it. Expect very very short chapters.</p><p>Latest chapter: <em>Former General Armitage Hux had been in nearly solitary confinement for fourteen standard days, visited only by droids who brought food and the disembodied voice that used a modulator and carefully chosen words to chip away at thirty-four years of First Order conditioning, training, and discipline. The voice talked of people starving, of a star system dying, of people who needed freedom more than they craved order, of fear and pain and loss. It spoke of hope, and love, and friendship. It had not spoken of betrayal.</em></p><p> </p><p>  <em>He felt it anyway.</em></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by this poem and my own sick, twisted lust for both Kylo and Hux:
> 
>  **I Find no Peace**  
>  By Sir Thomas Wyatt  
> I find no peace, and all my war is done.  
> I fear and hope. I burn and freeze like ice.  
> I fly above the wind, yet can I not arise;  
> And nought I have, and all the world I season.  
> That loseth nor locketh holdeth me in prison  
> And holdeth me not—yet can I scape no wise—  
> Nor letteth me live nor die at my device,  
> And yet of death it giveth me occasion.  
> Without eyen I see, and without tongue I plain.  
> I desire to perish, and yet I ask health.  
> I love another, and thus I hate myself.  
> I feed me in sorrow and laugh in all my pain;  
> Likewise displeaseth me both life and death,  
> And my delight is causer of this strife.

General Hux did not pay particular attention to the people below him. He knew their ranks and their orders by the clothes they wore, by how quickly they stopped to salute or genuflect, whether they answered directly to him or to one of the many men and women below him. If one happened to catch his eye, it was most often because they had failed in some spectacular way and he was tasked with the not-quite-onerous duty of seeing them punished. The medical staff was slightly outside his purview, the requisition of new droids or new doctors left in the hands of people who would know those skills better, but he was apprised of their strengths, weaknesses, and backgrounds on a semi-regular basis. 

The one leaning forward over the prone form of Kylo Ren, her hands moving quickly and professionally over his mostly-naked form as she barked orders to the hovering droid, was the newest, the one who’d been plucked from a medical school on … Ord Mantell? Balmorra? Somewhere green, he thought, somewhere the First Order had a firmer hold, somewhere she had proven herself capable and efficient with diagnostics, repairs, and sending troops back into the fight. Had she, he wondered as she applied some sort of white greasy substance to the already cauterized wound neatly bisecting the long face of the Commander of the Knights of Ren, ever healed a man dying from a bowcaster wound inflicted by the best friend of the father he’d slain? Had she ever dreamed of seeing the Knight without his mask, the long, pale face, the too-large ears, the slightly crooked nose, the vulnerable mouth, or had he been just a phantom for her, the cause or at least the reason for the various cuts, scrapes, burns, and death she saw crawl through her clinic? Did she care that the lightsaber she’d tossed away from Ren like so much trash was his prized possession and one of the most mystical and legendary weapons in the galaxy? 

Did she care that if the Knight died she would, too, the Supreme Leader not given to mercy? 

General Armitage Hux of the First Order watched from the doorway on the shuttle carrying them to Supreme Leader Snoke, his hands behind his back at parade rest, and had not one thought that was true about the doctor who was working to save the life of Kylo Ren as they fled from the Resistance’s destruction of Starkiller. 

OoO 

The flowers on the waist-high, sophisticated wooden table were the color of sunset, reds and pinks and golds, spearing tall from the palest green of the glass vase, tubular and elegant, their throats purest white where their stamens, thin and fragile, rested. He trailed a fingertip over the blossoms, feeling their delicacy, letting himself lean forward to sniff the exotic, spicy scent, feeling it catch at the back of his throat just as a small, feminine, capable hand slid up the back of his arm, a gentle, reassuring squeeze. He turned only his head, slowly, still slightly bent forward over the blooms, and buried his nose in the curve of the woman’s neck, her scent softer than the flowers but somehow more intriguing, warmth and comfort and _home_. As her hand stroked and petted his shoulder and his back and the curve of his spine, finally tangling into his hair where he wanted it most, he allowed himself the pleasure of touch. 

A long, slender, callused fingertip trailed down a feminine shoulder, over the generous outer curve of a breast, following the line of her body as it bowed inward at her waist and then rounded out, the softness of a hip that fit perfectly into his palm. He heard her suck in a slow, careful breath as his fingertips spread out, both hands now, as he gently kneaded the upper curve of her bottom, felt, under his mouth, her pulse begin to speed. He nuzzled her pulse point with his lips, again when she made a soft sound and swayed closer, fitting herself into the curve of his body, when her arms slid fully around him and her breasts plumped against his chest. 

“Soft,” he heard himself whisper, his voice hoarse and almost alien, his teeth sinking so very gently into the tendon of her neck, and her pleased, pleasured gasp had him rutting against her stomach, suddenly hard and aching and breathless with it. She rolled her hips into the thigh he pushed between her legs, her nails digging lightly into his spine, dragging up his skin, tangling again in his hair which tore a low growl of need from his throat. He boosted her up onto the table, caught a glimpse of high cheekbones and ivory skin and the most delicately bowed mouth before he kissed her, his tongue sweeping in to taste and savor, to tease and torment just as his fingers found and plundered the slick wet heat between her thighs. “Soft,” he groaned again into her mouth, their voices mingling as he sank two fingers deep into her, as she arched her back and rippled around his invasion, goosebumps racing over her skin. Continuing to pump his fingers lazily, occasionally dragging his thumb over her clit, he skated his mouth down her throat until he found her nipples, lapping at the peaks again and again until they were tight on his tongue and her sex was spasming and she was making needy, frantic noises. 

“Shhhh,” he murmured as he slid to his knees like a supplicant, as he gently urged her knees farther apart. “Shhhh,” he breathed against her sex, the completely smooth skin glistening, the thick outer lips swollen and pink and delicious, perfect for an open-mouthed kiss, for the slow, languorous glide of his tongue. He hmmed his delight in her taste, darkly sweet, in the way she combed her fingers through his hair and encouraged his explorations with whimpers and sighs and, finally, finally as he flicked her clit quickly with his tongue and curled three fingers toward her belly, with a loud keening cry as she came. 

He kissed and licked and nuzzled her through the aftershocks, the little tremors and shivers of her thighs against his ears and lips, on his fingers, relishing the power she’d given him in this moment, the absolute thrill of certainty that she would let him do this, do more, do _anything_ , again and again until they were both satisfied. She was his, his only and always and forever. The thought brought peace, contentment, joy and as he rose to his feet and took himself in hand, hard and leaking and ready, she opened for him with a soft sigh and gentle hands on his face, burying her face into the bend of his shoulder as he took her, as he slid in and out in a steady, smooth rhythm that quickly devolved into hard, rough thrusting, one hand braced on the edge of the table, the other on her hip. “Please,” he choked out, drowning, the pleasure coiling roughly in his stomach, and she seemed to understand what he needed, her fingers moving between them, touching them both as she circled her clit, her head falling back as his hips stuttered, and with a hoarse shout he came, filling her even as she shuddered and clenched around him, her second orgasm quieter than her first, his forehead falling to her collarbone as she carded her fingers through his hair. 

Neither of them noticed that the fragile vase of flowers had tumbled to the floor, crushed and broken. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Something flashed in her eyes, here and gone, and her smile slipped away. “Let us both hope that is the case,” she agreed. Just as he’d turned to go he heard her murmur, softly, “My name is Kittani. Dr. Juznik was my father.”_
> 
> _Hux turned to glance at her over his shoulder and let his face relax into a small, genuine smile at the guarded but hopeful look on her lovely face. “Kittani.”_

“But will he _live_?” 

General Hux watched as the woman didn’t even bother to pause where she was cleaning the blood from her hands with a hygiene pack, her brows furrowing as she regarded him seriously and wearily. She had been working over the unconscious form of Kylo Ren for most of a day, muttering occasionally about the lack of a bacta tank and the thin medical supplies the ship provided, fretting unnecessarily that the man might lose feeling in his legs or arms or have an internal injury she just couldn’t see. She’d waved away all of his questions as unimportant until she stabilized the patient. Now that she had, she seemed just as disinclined to reassure him, her lips thinning as she set aside the sonic cleaner and sank back into the chair behind her. 

“Dr. Juznik, need I remind you that I am the senior ranking officer on this vessel?” He kept his voice carefully neutral despite his growing impatience and was rewarded when she relented, her posture crumbling as she rubbed slow circles on her temples with her fingers. 

“I apologize for my lack of civility.” Her lips curled at the corners, not quite amusement, making her interesting eyes, caught somewhere between green and blue, sparkle mischievously. She was quite attractive, a heart-shaped face with an aquiline nose, lovely full pink lips, and sitting as she was, a curvaceous figure in the black, body-hugging uniform, the realization an uncomfortable one that had him shifting from foot to foot, and his unease caused her smile to spread into a grin. “Your Knight will live, General Hux, and will continue to ably serve the First Order for many years to come.” 

“He is not _my_ Knight,” he heard himself say acerbically and was rewarded by a husky, soft laugh and a nod of acknowledgment. 

“Of course, sir.” He gulped, a hard bob of his throat, when her slender arms lifted and she began pulling pins from her hair, hair that was a shade like warm, golden sunlight. It was pleasing to the eye and looked touchably soft as she combed her fingers through the long strands, fanning them out over the upper slope of her breasts, and he realized he was staring only when she raised her eyebrows and murmured, “Was there something else, General?” 

“No. No, that will be…” He choked and had to swallow again, hoped he had enough control to stop the telltale flush he could feel pulsing beneath the skin over his cheekbones. “You’ve done well, Dr. Juznik. The Supreme Leader will be pleased.” 

Something flashed in her eyes, here and gone, and her smile slipped away. “Let us both hope that is the case,” she agreed. Just as he’d turned to go he heard her murmur, softly, “My name is Kittani. Dr. Juznik was my father.” 

Hux turned to glance at her over his shoulder and let his face relax into a small, genuine smile at the guarded but hopeful look on her lovely face. “Kittani.” 

OoO 

“Status?” 

“Affirmative.” 

“The target?” 

“Rallying.” 

“Likelihood of success?” 

“Better than yesterday.” 

“Confirmed.” Static hissed for a moment before, “Thank you.” 

“Always.” Another, longer pause and then, “I’m sorry.” 

The connection was severed. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Kylo Ren watched impassively as General Hux turned the beautiful doctor toward him, his hand still a proprietary weight on her shoulder, his fingertips almost grazing the tops of her breasts, and said, firmly, “You will follow Dr. Juznik’s orders to the letter. She has proven herself…” The pause was deliberate, as was the caressing movement of Hux’s hand back down her arm. “Most skilled,” he purred._   
> 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More smut. Sorry I'm not sorry I still haven't revealed who's having sex. In the next installment, we get to see Rey and Master Luke!

“The patient is waking, doctor.” 

The droid’s voice over the comm brought Kittani from half-drowsing to fully awake, her mind scrambling even as she calmly reordered her hair and pulled on the jacket to her uniform over her thin tank, shivering in the cold of the small quarters she’d been granted. It was only a short walk down a cold metal hallway to the med bay and she took the time to breathe in, slowly, through her nose, and then out even more slowly, trying to calm her skittering pulse. He was just a man, whatever they said about him. Just a man and she was being a ninny. She had saved his life, after all. That had to count for something, surely? 

He had been out for three full standard days. 

She nodded her thanks to the droid who handed her a datapad of the most recent scans of the patient as she entered the sterile grey room and felt her stomach, already knotted, dip to her toes. 

Kylo Ren was, indeed, awake. Not only was he awake, he was apparently waiting for her, his big, luminous dark eyes, surrounded by the purple bruises of heavy sedation and the most ridiculously long lashes, tracking her as she moved into the room, as she set aside the datapad and approached him. Even lying as he was on the raised platform of the exam table, a white woven blanket draped over him, he seemed to radiate a quiet, intense aura, a waiting, coiled sort of energy. Taking her courage in hand when he said nothing, just continued to watch her with a stare that was caught somewhere between predatory and searching, she leaned forward, passing her fingers very, very lightly over the angry red welt that bisected his forehead and curved under his right eye to his chin. It was healing nicely, the edges poorly cauterized by the weapon that had dealt it smoothed out some by her time and attention and the medigel. He would have a scar both on his face and on his side where the bowcaster had taken a large chunk of his hip and his waist, skin she’d had to hastily regrow with cultures she’d made up herself on the spot. His pale skin was already pitted and marked and pocked and slashed by dozens of scars, however, and she somehow doubted he cared overmuch about two more. 

Relaxing when he lay quiescent for her examination, she gently peeled back the blanket to let her fingertips probe gently at his side through the thin, translucent material of the bandages. His shoulders would wait though she did wonder what, exactly, had dealt the wounds there and on his face - they were very similiar. Absorbed in her work, she was startled into stillness when his hand came up, long, slender fingers curling around her wrist. His touch hummed along her skin, tendrils reaching out, seeking, tickling, and she jerked her eyes back up to his face in alarm to find him still watching her. “Sir?” she managed to force out of her suddenly dry throat, an undignified squeak. 

“Pretty,” he murmured, his hand flexing on her skin and she exhaled, long and slow, and shook her head. 

“Doctor,” she corrected but she couldn’t stop the slight smile as his wide, full, generous mouth settled into what she would have called a pout on any other, lesser, man. It served him well, however, and she wondered, fleetingly, if he wore the mask because his mobile face and drowning eyes were so expressive. 

“Still,” he tried and then coughed, harshly, his fingers sliding away from her skin to press to his mouth. “Water?” he asked and she nodded, motioning the droid from the position it had taken up near the wall. She helped Ren half-sit, supporting him as he took the slim drink tube and brought it to his mouth. 

“Slowly,” she cautioned out of habit and received a side-long almost glare as he carefully tipped it back, the muscles in his throat rippling as he sipped. When he’d finished and returned the tube to the droid, she moved to lay him back down and found her wrist once more caught in his grip. Something in his face told her his intentions were to swing his legs over the side of the table, to attempt to move, and a dart of panic crawled up her spine. She was shaking her head before she considered the advisability of telling the man what to do. “Sir, I don’t think getting up is advisable.” 

She’d misjudged his objective. He tugged, lightly, on her wrist, pulled her closer until their faces were barely inches apart, until she could see the warm gold flecks swimming in the sea of nearly black that was his eyes. Her breath caught in her throat at the flash of longing, at the way his tongue swiped at his full bottom lip even as his gaze dropped to her mouth. 

She could have sworn that he meant to kiss her. 

“How many times must I ask that you not abuse the staff?” There was dry amusement in the cultured voice and Kittani wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or sorry when she was immediately released, her patient subsiding back onto the table as General Hux stepped into the room, his thin mouth made even thinner by an emotion that looked like distaste. For the almost kiss, she wondered, or because she had been allowing liberties? 

The two men eyed each other in the way of powerful individuals throughout the galaxy, especially those with history, and it was the Master of the Knights of Ren who said, finally, “Glad I’m not dead, General?” 

Hux snorted and would, Kittani thought with a touch of whimsy, have rolled his eyes if he hadn’t been trying to maintain his dignity. “Glad Supreme Leader Snoke will have the pleasure of killing you for your failures, perhaps.” 

Ren’s face closed down immediately and the coldness left behind on that long, pale face made Kittani shiver. Clearly, this was not a conversation for her. Or one she particularly wanted to hear. She tried a small, falsely cheerful smile for both her patient and the General. “Gentleman, if I may be excused.” 

Hux’s fingers were no less long or slender or pale than the Knight’s but his grip on her wrist was different, the calluses in dissimilar places for a man who had trained with a blaster or vibrosword most likely only briefly, his touch less a seeking than a command. “You still find his condition satisfactory?” 

“Yes, sir. He is healing well. I would recommend at least another few days of bed rest and then perhaps a return to light duty.” Kittani was proud that her voice neither wavered nor stuttered, prouder still that she remained calm in the General’s grip as his blue eyes regarded her carefully, looking for signs of what she wasn’t sure. Apparently he was satisfied, his hand gliding up her arm to squeeze, lightly, at her shoulder. She repressed, barely, a tremble at his familiarity and nearness, at the feel of his fingers through the thin cloth of her uniform. 

Kylo Ren watched impassively as General Hux turned the beautiful doctor toward him, his hand still a proprietary weight on her shoulder, his fingertips almost grazing the tops of her breasts, and said, firmly, “You will follow Dr. Juznik’s orders to the letter. She has proven herself…” The pause was deliberate, as was the caressing movement of Hux’s hand back down her arm. “Most skilled,” he purred. 

“As you say,” Kylo said, quietly, and closed his eyes, dismissing them both. 

OoO 

The tidal pool was wide and deep, mist rising from the clear, still water as it warmed to the sun just peeking over the horizon, and he allowed himself to sink toward the bottom, the cool water turning cloudy as he, and several small water-dwelling creatures, stirred the silt and sand. He watched the little things dart and tease and play around his toes, one tiny pink fish braver than the rest pausing to nibble, delicately, at his instep before darting away. The laugh from above was amusement and indulgent affection; as he tilted his head back he could see her face hovering over the water, watching from the rock ledge, her legs dangling near his shoulder. Reaching out, quick as a whip, he grasped at her ankle. Expecting a tug downward, she gave a surprised little squeal as he used her and the ledge for leverage, propelling himself up and out of the water to sit next to her. 

Her squeal turned to a soft, contented exhalation when he urged her over to sit in his lap, straddling his wet, naked thighs, when he pressed butterfly soft kisses to both of her palms and then laid them over his chest. He watched her lovely face as she took the hint and began to explore, her fingertips as long as his but not quite as pale, softly golden as they traced his arms and shoulders, pausing to abrade one of his nipples with her thumb which drew a gasp from him and a soft sound of discovery from her. Leaning forward, looking up at him from under the tangle of her lashes, she swirled her tongue over and around the tight point until he was panting and rolling his hips up into hers. 

“Patience,” she whispered against his skin, kissing across his collarbone to the center of his chest, her straight white teeth sinking in over his sternum and causing his cock to jerk where it was trapped between their bodies. Her pleased giggle was musical, her tongue wicked as she urged him to lean back on his elbows, as she nibbled and licked and kissed her way down his body, pausing to nuzzle her nose into the hollow where his inner thigh met his abdomen. It was so close to where he actually wanted her mouth that he very nearly whined, contenting himself with stroking his fingers over her cheek and her hair, shuddering in delight when she used the strands to tickle and tease his thighs and the very tip of his cock. She pressed a lingering series of kisses to his balls, her blunt nails raking ever so lightly down his inner thighs, and this time he couldn’t stop the low-pitched, needy sound he made. 

“Patience,” she said again but with no hint of a laugh, her fingertips stroking down his knees, his calves, kneading the muscles, sending mixed signals as she lifted her bottom into the air and scooted backward, wiggling and squirming. She nibbled, delicately, at the instep of his right foot and had him barking out a husky, choked laugh that edged into a curse when she reached up with one hand and fisted his cock, pumping steadily just like he liked. The sensation was intense and he dropped his head back, closing his eyes and trying to breathe, cursing again when she nipped at the sensitive skin behind his right knee. 

“Beautiful,” she whispered and had him blinking his eyes open to find her staring back at him, hunger and heat and weight to her gaze. He swallowed as she crawled back up his body, as she rose over him and then sank down, taking him inside of her in one long, heady, dizzying rush, so wet, so hot, and fuck, she _was_ , beautiful and gorgeous and perfect and so much, she was so much, everything, he would do anything for her, be anyone for her, his woman, his mate, and he didn’t even know he was speaking aloud until her hands fisted in his hair and pulled him upright and his head down, down so she could crash his mouth against hers, teeth and tongue and quick, panting breaths, and he was so close, so close, and she whispered, again, “Beautiful,” and he came with her name on his lips. 

Below them, a long coiling watersnake struck and the adventurous, pretty little pink fish was swallowed whole. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _His smile was guarded and small and she would have lain odds that he was using muscles that seldom saw exercise as his hand turned over and captured hers. However, his eyes crinkled charmingly at the corners as he rose to his feet all in a rush. Out of habit and respect, she rose with him, her hand still trapped in his. His skin was, surprisingly, warm. “Perhaps, Kittani, you would at least call me Hux.” He leaned closer and she caught the slight acidic tang of aftershave in her nose, a not unpleasant scent. “All of my friends do.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A couple of things:
> 
> 1) THANK YOU to those of you reading and commenting and leaving kudos. It means everything to me as a writer.
> 
> 2) I am a perfectionist and tend to go back and tweak previous chapters even as I work on new ones, sometimes to make the story flow better and, in the case of this chapter, pointing out Kittani has no idea what a lightsaber is. So if something seems confusing, let me know - I may have tweaked in the wrong direction.
> 
> 3) This story is sorta flowing out of me on its own. I had an idea when I started but, uh, Kylo and Hux and now Snoke are yanking my chain. We'll see where we end up, yeah? Thanks for coming along for the ride! 

The patient proved more easy-going than Kittani expected. She wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or disappointed that he seemed uninterested in her on subsequent visits, letting her poke and prod and inject him as needed without interference. Often, in fact, he kept his eyes closed and his breathing even, appearing almost as if in a trance. His healing was accelerated, too, and she wondered if this had something to do with the mystical ‘Force’ she’d heard people muttering about. The only time he stirred was when she went to move the strange tube-shaped object he’d been found with away from some notes she’d made in long-hand, a clinking sound echoing in the overly quiet room as it nearly rolled away from her and off the table. 

“No,” he said, firmly, his tone brooking no argument and before she could react, the whatever-it-was went flying across the room and into his outstretched palm. She gaped, she knew she did, and had to sit down as he tucked the cylinder away into the blanket over him with something like a smirk in her direction. She narrowed her eyes at him, had opened her mouth to ask a most likely unwise question, and was interrupted, as often seemed to happen, by the entrance of General Hux. 

Kittani was starting to wonder if he feared leaving her alone with her patient. 

He’d shaved, she realized immediately, the pale golden red stubble gone from his handsome, chiseled face, and had his bright red hair once more neatly combed. The look was austere but fitting, a direct contrast to Ren whose own black whiskers were wild, much like the unruly halo of black curls. Ren raised an eyebrow at her with another of those smirks when he caught her looking at him before he closed his eyes again. 

“Oh, ignoring us now?” Hux scoffed when he received no acknowledgment, moving over to settle in the chair next to Kittani. “Must be meditating,” he said in a mockery of an aside, his breath stirring the little hairs at the back of her neck. 

“Oh! I’ve heard of the practice. It seems an excellent way to help someone relax.” 

Hux was not a man given to impulse. In fact, he prided himself on his ability to remain above most situations, to let his intelligent, thoughtful words and actions speak for themselves rather than resorting to base jokes or rudeness. However, something about the innocent enthusiasm in Kittani’s voice, a spark of jealousy that she was looking at Kylo Ren once more instead of at him had him spouting off the first words that came into his head: “I can think of much better activities for relaxing.” 

Kittani laughed, quick and easy, lighting up her face, twinkling in her eyes, more blue than green today in the harsh white lights of the med bay, and Hux had to check the instinct to reach out and stroke her full lower lip with his thumb. “We should have a drink once we reach base,” he heard himself say with a sort of dull, roaring horror and the lecturing voice of his father in the back of his skull, reminding him that duty and honor and destiny didn’t wait for men who tangled themselves up with beautiful women. 

“That is an...unexpected...invitation,” she managed after a moment and tried to ignore the prickle up her spine that was Kylo Ren on the table across the room. Hux stiffened and, always a toucher, she reached out and laid her hand over his on the arm of his chair. “I said unexpected, General, not unwelcome.” 

His smile was guarded and small and she would have lain odds that he was using muscles that seldom saw exercise as his hand turned over and captured hers. However, his eyes crinkled charmingly at the corners as he rose to his feet all in a rush. Out of habit and respect, she rose with him, her hand still trapped in his. His skin was, surprisingly, warm. “Perhaps, Kittani, you would at least call me Hux.” He leaned closer and she caught the slight acidic tang of aftershave in her nose, a not unpleasant scent. “All of my friends do.” 

She was still standing by the table, holding the hand he’d raised to his lips and kissed before he’d left, when there was an inelegant and disbelieving snort from her patient. She whirled, defensive and blushing, to find him looking back at her. As before when he’d called his property to him, his tone was firm and final, “No.” 

OoO 

Rey was dreaming. Or at least, that’s what Master Luke called the meditative state where she could feel the Force like a warm, comforting blanket over her shoulders, where if she stretched just a tiny bit further, reaching, reaching with her newfound senses, weak and tremulous but real, so real, she thought she could find the tiny pinpricks of light that were Poe and Finn and Chewie, maybe even her family, the family that had been taken from her, it was hers, _her_ family and she’d had it only briefly because… 

_Little scavenger girl. The truth will set you free._

Luke woke to the sound of Rey sobbing, her arms curled defensively around her knees, her body shaking as she rocked back and forth in her blankets, her hazel eyes unfocused, the pupils huge, her cheeks wet with tears. Throwing aside his own blankets, he moved across the small wooden hut, knelt at Rey's side, and laid his non-mechanical hand on her shoulder. 

_So nice of you to join us._


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trapped on this damned shuttle, trapped by the General's careful courting, by the strange weight of expectation in Kylo Ren's eyes, by her own circling, uneasy emotions, pulled in two opposite, truly opposing directions. Instinct told her neither man was accustomed to sharing their toys. And what was she thinking? Had she actually been without physical companionship for so long that she was contemplating a torrid affair with her superior officer or the terrifying Master of the Knights of Ren?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I watched the movie again and realized I'd missed two important injuries on Kylo after Starkiller. Whoops. Went back and sorta fixed that. Also, THANKS AGAIN for reading and commenting. This chapter is longer - it got away from me but in a way I like. NSFW. 

“He's...what?” 

“He said you have released him for activity.” The droid waited a beat and would have, if it could, blinked at her. “Is he incorrect?” 

“No.” Kittani dragged her hands over her face and tried to focus. She'd slept poorly for the past five night cycles, her bunk too cold, her blankets too scratchy, both the General and her rapidly healing patient the only distractions for a woman who thrived on a bustling medbay throughout her assigned shift, on a quiet hour or three afterward in her lab checking cultures and specimens, on dinner and wine and reading on her personal holocron at the end of a long day in her private quarters _alone_. She preferred her own company, preferred solitude when she wasn't working, and here she felt crowded. 

And trapped. 

Trapped on the damned shuttle, trapped by the General's careful courting, by the strange weight of expectation in Kylo Ren's eyes, by her own circling, uneasy emotions, pulled in two opposite, truly opposing directions. Instinct told her neither man was accustomed to sharing their toys. And what was she _thinking_? Had she actually been without physical companionship for so long that she was contemplating a torrid affair with her superior officer _or_ the terrifying Master of the Knights of Ren? 

According to General Hux's calculations, they should reach the Supreme Leader in two more standard days. She was afraid she was going to go quietly mad beforetime. 

The droid shifted with a rattle and clank. Kittani rose from her bunk, shoved her hair back from her face and wished viciously for the refresher in her quarters on Starkiller. She felt limp and frazzled and _off_. “I'm sorry, I'll go talk to him. He's in the loading bay, you said?” 

“Yes, Dr. Juznik. I would advise you wear warmer clothing. The temperature in the loading bay is currently 20 degrees.” 

“I don't _have_ warmer clothing,” she groused but waved off the droid when it would have offered more advice. “It's fine, RN-525. I'll live.” 

Desperate to keep her mind focused and on target, she recited formulas in her head, ones she’d long ago memorized as a med student and, more recently, ones she had been toying with in her research on Starkiller: medigel, advanced surgical and field packs, even one for a stimulant that was meant to increase reflex time exponentially in battle. She was wondering, idly, if the Knights of Ren would find that last one helpful when the blast door to the loading bay opened. 

“We might find it useful, yes,” Kylo Ren said lazily, the cylinder he’d called to himself days ago held in a guard position before him, almost as if he held a vibrosword, and as she watched, transfixed, he began moving through a series of complicated, acrobatic movements. He was beautiful, slow and careful and controlled, his face intent and focused, grace in every turn, spin, or thrust of a dance that was obviously meant to be martial. 

Deadly. 

Truly, she was going out of her mind because she found it intensely arousing. 

“Is there something you needed, doctor?” he drawled finally and her natural curiosity overcame her trepidation, had her taking a further step into the room and pointing at the object he was holding. 

“Did you read my mind and what _is_ that thing and I said you could return to light duty and I'm not sure this qualifies so how are your wounds?” she demanded all in a rush, wincing as she heard how breathless and awkward her own voice sounded. Yes, definitely alone too long: give her a blaster injury any day over normal conversation, especially with tall, dark, handsome, and menacing. 

”Yes, I read your mind. You were projecting rather loudly,” he said placidly, the movements slowing and then finally stopping. Sweat beaded along his hairline, the curls there tighter, sticking to his skin, and she saw him suppress a wince as he rotated first one shoulder and then the other. Catching the concerned motion she made toward him, he brandished the weapon. “This is a lightsaber.” 

“That’s a myth,” she returned promptly and nearly jumped out of her skin when the thing in his hand ignited, a low humming sound assaulting her ears, a long red blade that crackled and sparked appearing from the tube … no, the _hilt_ she realized, a hilt with two exhaust ports that were also venting the malevolent red energy at right angles to the blade and, fascinated, she stepped closer, only to have him halt her with a palm out gesture. 

“It’s dangerous to get too close.” His voice was almost gentle and she nodded immediately though she couldn’t, despite whatever little self-preservation she possessed, curb her tongue. 

“I’ve only ever read about such things.” His unmarked brow arched again when she moved impatiently, almost making greedy hand motions with her fingers, and her mouth continued to run on without her brain. “How does it work? What do you mean I was projecting, is it because I was reciting formula? Is that a laser? Is it refracting from an energy source in the hilt? Can the…crossguards? Is that what the other two blades are called? Can they cause damage or are they just venting extra energy? And come here, let me look at you, I don't want you to undo all of my careful work by being stubborn.” 

“You are just full of questions and demands, Dr. Juznik.” 

“Kittani,” she corrected automatically and saw the humor in his expression flare bright. He'd obviously made the connection between her name and the old saying. “And yes, yes, curiosity and Kittani, trust me I've heard it all.” 

“Have you now?” 

She grumbled when he deactivated the lightsaber, crossing her arms over her chest defensively as he prowled toward her. She stood her ground and did her best not to lean away from him when he invaded her personal space. 

Shit he was tall. So tall. Lying in the medbay he had been long and lean but seeing him now looming over her, the width of his shoulders blocking out some of the dim light, Kittani felt something deep inside of her clench and quiver, reveling in how small and delicate he made her feel. He was wearing a simple black tunic belted around his narrow waist and loose black trousers and it was somehow unbearably intimate that his long, narrow feet were bare. She felt naked and exposed when he raised an eyebrow at her swiftly indrawn breath, at the little jump she made when the door whooshed closed behind her and the lock made a final sort of _schnick_. 

He'd locked her in with him. Locked her in and he could read her mind and he was holding a weapon that could cut her in half and oh, oh, oh, she wanted him to touch her, she needed it, craved it, had thought about it... 

“You're projecting again.” His voice was sibilant but no longer amused, his empty hand rising very slowly, almost asking permission, before he cupped her cheek, the pad of his thumb swiping over her lower lip. She turned into the caress immediately, slightly appalled as her body yearned toward him, as she rose onto tiptoe and tilted her head back, offering her mouth to him. “Oh, aren't you delicious?” he breathed, dipping his thumb into her mouth, pulling at her lower lip, and her whole body shuddered. 

“What are you doing to me?” she managed to whimper just as his mouth descended toward hers. 

The only answer she received were his lips closing firmly over hers, his tongue thrusting in immediately to stroke, to taste, to _take_. He smelled like medigel, like fire and smoke, and she would swear to herself later, lying in her cot and staring up at the bulkhead with dilated pupils and kiss-swollen lips that though his hand never left her face and he never released his weapon, he'd stroked her body from breast to hip. 

He left her standing stunned and trembling in the cargo bay with a tender kiss to her forehead, a pile of clothes that matched his nearly exactly but in her size, and the threat of, “Soon.” 

OoO 

The rich purple synthcloth bound over his eyes gave everything an indistinct, hazy appearance, filtering and refracting light so that he had the illusion of sight but no ability to focus, his world narrowed to touch, taste, hearing, and smell. And oh, the wonderful feast for the senses that tantalized and teased and delighted: 

Soft, smooth, supple skin, familiar and yet somehow unknown dips and hollows and valleys gliding over the pads of his fingertips and the rougher skin of his palm, delicate strokes, firm kneading, a hasty grab. 

The weight of a round, heavy breast filling his hand, a featherlight kiss pressed to the tightly furled nipple, his tongue rasping over the pebbled bud again and again, his lips closing for a long, intense suckle, her taste like shuura fruit, sweet and ripe. 

A feminine voice, filled with longing, above and over and around him, the sole purpose of his being to elicit her husky 'yes' and 'more' and 'please', to give her pleasure, to ease her ache, to sate her desires. 

Arousal a sharp, musky tang that perfumed the air, the scent of flames and melting wax from the hundreds of candles flickering around the room, the vague hint of fragrance that clung to the bend of her elbow, the curve of her knee, the back of her neck that reminded him of cool, clear water. 

Her slick coating his fingers, dripping onto his tongue, feasting on her as she shuddered and arched and trembled above him, grinding her clit against his nose, her thighs cradling his head, the symphony of her moans and cries and begging, the high, breathless wail she made as the orgasm tightened her sex around his thrusting fingers, her clit pulsing, pulsing, a tiny heartbeat on his lips. 

Her breaths, panted against his neck as she curled up against his side, damp and warm and so soft as their sweat mingled, her fingertips kneading his scalp, her voice murmuring to him, endearments and praise and, finally, always: “Mine.” 

“Yours,” he agreed, the promise and the threat as the flames flickered and danced in his limited field of vision. 

OoO 

Kittani dreamed of a man in a mask prostrate before her as the sky burned. 


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _He thought he'd won a major victory when he offered her the use of the refresher in his quarters, the captain's quarters he'd commandeered, and she threw herself bodily at him, a tight, hard hug that left him tugging lightly at the collar of his uniform and she beaming at him, bright and happy. Further, when he magnanimously released her from the obligation of wearing her standard issue uniform, giving her leave to wear the tunic and pants she'd foraged he assumed from somewhere in the cargo bay, and she bounced onto her toes and pressed a smacking kiss to his cheek, he was left standing like a love-struck fool in the hallway, his face on fire._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm sick and that's a thing and I'm only about 1-2 chapters ahead of myself. Go easy on my if my update pace slows to every week until I feel better, please?
> 
> Thanks for reading, though, and commenting or leaving kudos - it means a lot. We get more smut next chapter to make up for poor Leia's angst and Hux's awkwardness in this chapter. We even get a little hint of who is ... smutting. That's a word now. You're welcome.

Hux enjoyed the doctor's company more than he would have expected. She had a quick, agile mind, an innocent, enthusiastic naivete, and her manners were impeccable. He chafed at his inability on the small ship to shower her with the attention she deserved; for once he had time but no resources when, before Starkiller, it had been the opposite. He did his limited best but it rankled because, for once, he wanted _more_. 

He used a secure channel on his personal datapad to locate a series of journal articles on cell reconstruction in Twi'leks he thought she might like and sent it to her via holonet. That earned him an incomprehensible but endearing lecture on the poor methods the scientists had used, her outrage punctuated by expressive hand gestures, flashing blue green eyes, and harsh breathing that did interesting, wonderful things to her already magnificent breasts. 

He shared with her, in a limited scope, some of the plans he'd had for Starkiller, skirting around his disgust for Kylo Ren's ultimate failure to kill the scavenger girl and his own failure at stopping the Resistance destruction of what had been meant to be his greatest accomplishment. She listened attentively, interrupting only for clarification, and when he found himself up and pacing, not quite able to keep his rage contained, she'd taken his hands between hers and squeezed, firmly, her voice soothing, “You did everything you could, Hux.” His name was like a balm from her lips. 

He thought he'd won a major victory when he offered her the use of the refresher in his quarters, the captain's quarters he'd commandeered, and she threw herself bodily at him, a tight, hard hug that left him tugging lightly at the collar of his uniform and she beaming at him, bright and happy. Further, when he magnanimously released her from the obligation of wearing her standard issue uniform, giving her leave to wear the tunic and pants she'd foraged he assumed from somewhere in the cargo bay, and she bounced onto her toes and pressed a smacking kiss to his cheek, he was left standing like a love-struck fool in the hallway, his face on fire. 

Doctor Kittani Juznik was adorable. He was smitten. He wasn't sure he minded. Perhaps destiny and fate had placed her in his path. Perhaps she would help him fulfill his glorious purpose. 

Yes. 

Yes, destiny called. 

Hux would answer. 

OoO 

General Leia Organa sat quietly, her hands folded in her lap, and tried, again, the Jedi meditation tricks Luke had tried to teach her all those long years ago, years where Han was home more than he was gone, years where her son was small and loved to curl up in her lap as she read him a story, years where Luke was building his school but was a firm, solid, real presence in her mind, in her heart. 

Years, she thought now, sighing as she sank back against the chair and released her tenuous grasp on the Force, where she had been more than just a general, more than just tired and old and grief wasn't like a terrifyingly familiar monster that stalked her waking and sleeping. 

She missed Rey. She missed Luke. She missed Chewie and even missed Poe who was off being the best damn pilot for the Resistance. 

For her. 

She closed her eyes, let the tears gather at the corner of her eyes, let them curdle in her throat, in her heart. 

She missed Han. 

Han who'd always brought out the worst in her, the snide, fiery girl in the calm, patient diplomat. 

Han who'd been useless when she was sick with her pregnancy, his face pale when she'd wake, again, from another nightmare of blood and death and destruction. 

Han who'd cradled their baby boy in his hands minutes after his birth, long legs and arms flailing, his screams at being forced out of her womb enough to stir even the most reluctant of Force ghosts. Han who'd pressed his trembling mouth to his son's forehead, his eyes on hers across the medbay. “I love you,” she'd managed and saw, in the way he brought their son, their baby Ben, to his chest, his rough, careless, true: “I know.” 

Kylo Ren had taken everything, every _one_ , from General Leia Organa. He'd left her tattered and empty, a hollow shell, an unusable vessel. 

“But I won't break,” she whispered into the air, her eyes still closed, her fists clenched in her lap. “I won't break.” 

Just out of reach, in a corner of her mind, a light flickered, weak and pale. 


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _It was excellent advice. Excellent, perfect, well-meant advice and if Kittani was any kind of intelligent, she would lie. Lie, lie, and lie some more and tell General Hux and Kylo Ren that she was not interested in hot, sweaty, jungle monkey sex with either of them and then go find someone much less dangerous and connected who would let her lick and suck and bite and …_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm slightly better but now everyone else is sick. W...T...F. Here's a long one where: Phasma is a good bro, Kittani is a tangled mess and needs to get laid (I feel her, I so, so feel her), and there's mirror sex. Just fair warning, I am two chapters ahead of myself and Snoke is creepy as fuck. Like...the warnings for dubcon just got real. EVERYONE WHO IS READING IS AMAZING. I  <3 you. 

“Caf.” There was a thunk as a heavy mug was set in front of Kittani who picked it up and was drinking before she even acknowledged the tall warrior woman who’d taken a seat across from her in the almost empty officer's mess. Captain Phasma and a contingent of stormtroopers had met them at the landing pad, her own shiny silver armor a little worse for wear, and Kittani had been infinitely grateful that she'd been dismissed immediately, Supreme Leader Snoke more interested in seeing Hux and Ren than some unimportant human doctor. 

Her quarters were bare and spartan carved as they were out of solid rock but a personal holocron had been waiting for her, already programmed to her usual specifications, and there had been a message asking her to take a day to relax and recover and then to report to the medbay, to a Dr. Kletgh, for further orders. It was so routine, so normal, that she took what felt like her first deep, calm breath in much too long. She'd used the shared refresher down the hall, put on a clean uniform, and gone in search of food. 

The clothes Kylo Ren had given her, the clothes Hux had given her leave to wear, she set aside to have cleaned and returned to her. It would be silly to discard perfectly comfortable clothing only because they smelled, somehow, of both her and the Knight. 

Phasma didn’t seem to mind the silence as Kittani drank the hot, bitter beverage, the captain stretching out her long legs and drinking from her own mug. Kittani was always surprised and gratified when the taciturn woman sought her out. They weren't exactly friends but Phasma had, more than once, expressed her gratitude when Kittani patched up one of her troopers, most often with a cup of caf like this morning or with a bottle of wine delivered to her quarters or, only toward the end before...everything, Phasma would find her at mealtime and join her, the silver armor set aside. It was nice to have this, too, almost back to normal. 

She really, really needed normal. 

“I'm glad to see you made it out okay,” Kittani said finally and Phasma tilted her head, a reluctant smile pulling at the ruined skin at the edge of the warrior's mouth at Kittani's sincerity. Phasma, Kittani thought, had the most beautiful eyes, dark and pure like shining sapphire gems, but some accident had left one whole side of her face a mass of puckered, poorly healed scar tissue, pulling the outside corner of her eye down, leaving one nostril nearly closed, and making every expression slightly horrifying. She wore the mask for a reason, Kittani knew, and then banished the thought of her dream with a little shudder, hunching over her cup. 

“Same goes,” Phasma said after a while and Kittani smiled back. 

There was silence for another beat or two and Kittani had just relaxed into the dream of lab space somewhere in the compound when Phasma said, “So, you and General Hux?” 

“I...no! What? I didn't...we can't...who? Why would...oh, help,” she managed at last, burying her face in her hands as Phasma started to laugh, a big, hearty guffaw that had the two other officers utilizing the mess at this off hour turning to stare until she bared her teeth at them, sending them back to contemplation of their own business in a hurry. Kittani peeked at Phasma through her fingers, attempting to look pitiful. “Phasma...he's my superior officer. It's completely against regulations.” 

“Actually, you are outside his chain of command.” At Kittani's incredulous look, Phasma just shrugged, still looking amused. “The medical corps, technically speaking and for practicality's sake, has its own unique structure. Though you could be brought before him for punishment if it was deemed your transgression was against the First Order as a whole, he has no authority in your hiring, firing, or demotion.” 

“Great,” Kittani muttered dejectedly, her elbow on the table, her cheek plopped into her palm. “Just great.” 

Phasma raised her unmarred sandy eyebrow. “You don't seem pleased.” 

Kittani desperately wanted to spill everything, the kiss, the gifts, the confusion swirling in her own head. The two standard days it had taken to reach the base had been wonderful and awful. Hux was sweet and cordial and interesting, courting her in a very old-fashioned and charming sort of way. Kylo Ren was uncommunicative and volatile and avoiding her except for regular, and necessary, medical check ups where his eyes were watchful and wary. Telling all of this to Phasma seemed unwise, however, as the captain reported directly to General Hux. Further, he must have said something to Phasma about her for the other woman to even be asking, so it seemed imprudent to inform Phasma she was considering climbing Kylo Ren like an Imperial AT-AT. 

Too. 

In addition to Hux. 

“Fuck,” she whispered, dropping her forehead to the cold metal of the table. 

“Dr. Juz...Kittani.” Phasma's voice was hesitant and Kittani rolled her eyes up as the woman shifted forward, leaning closer across the table, her face earnest and sincere, a lock of nearly white-blonde hair falling over her broad forehead. “General Hux is a fair man. If you are honestly not interested in his attentions and state so clearly, he will be disappointed but will not, I do not believe, hold your lack of interest against you.” 

It was excellent advice. Excellent, perfect, well-meant advice and if Kittani was any kind of intelligent, she would lie. Lie, lie, and lie some more and tell General Hux _and_ Kylo Ren that she was not interested in hot, sweaty, jungle monkey sex with either of them and then go find someone much less dangerous and connected who would let her lick and suck and bite and … 

“Fuck,” she said, again, turning her head so her cheek was lying against the table. Phasma's laugh was no less loud this time but her hand was gentle as she laid it on Kittani's shoulder, a firm pat. 

“You could do worse,” the captain said. 

Kittani laughed and laughed and laughed until tears ran down her cheeks. 

OoO 

Two mirrors hung suspended in the room: one on the wall at the foot of the bed and a taller, wider one that went from floor to ceiling on his side of the bed. She had made a jest, once, that others must they think they were incredibly self-centered that they would need two such large reflective surfaces to ready themselves in the morning. It was an indulgence in the normally cold and barren quarters, an indulgence they were allowed due to privilege. The mirrors, however, had little to do with personal grooming and were, in fact, there because he liked to watch her face while he was deep inside of her, liked to watch her beautiful mouth pant and moan her pleasure, her pupils blown wide, black nearly overtaking the lovely turquoise, see his long fingers plucking at the dark mauve tips of her breasts, her golden skin gorgeous in contrast to his much paler hue, her hair like sunlight spilling over their shoulders as she ground the back of her head against his collarbone. 

“Look how wonderful you are, my love,” he crooned in her ear, rocking his hips slowly, languorously beneath her. Her thighs were spread wide over his, obscenely, perfectly wide, her cunt pink and glistening where his cock split her open, They had been fucking for what felt like hours, time often ceasing to matter when it was just they two together in this sanctuary, this room with its sterile walls and cold floor, an empty space they filled together just as she let him fill her, again and again. “So beautiful, so perfect, so adored,” he groaned, sinking his teeth into the slope of her shoulder, and the hand she'd slid into his hair fisted and pulled, hard, baring the vulnerable curve of his neck. 

He whimpered and she smiled at him in the mirror, a quick flash of straight, small, pearly teeth, and the sharp pain on his scalp eased, just a bit, eased as her tight, wet cunt clenched hard around his cock and her ass ground down against his balls. “Yes, adored, you adore me, don't you?” she murmured and he shivered in ecstasy at the promise of violence, of the _danger_ , in her voice, and bucked his hips up in response, his cock so hard, aching, he needed her so much, wanted her so much, loved...yes, loved her, so much. 

“Yes,” he hissed, “Yes,” and was rewarded when she twisted his head down so he could kiss her, licking and sucking and biting at her lips, the perfect curve, the slightly top-heavy upper even more swollen from his attentions, from his teeth and his tongue and his lips. She cried out into his mouth as he canted his hips just so, just so that as he rocked beneath her the broad head of his cock scraped across the spot inside of her that made her whole curvy, stunning body shake, and he tore his mouth away to look in the mirror, to see her, to know he was the one giving her pleasure, the one hilted inside of her, the one whose fingertips circled, circled, circled her clit, the little bud swollen and sensitive and just as their eyes caught and held in the mirror, he pressed and rubbed, hard. 

She sobbed, nearly babbling, but he heard her, heard her give permission, relief, heard her in the midst of cries of his name say, “Come for me, oh please, yes, yes, come for me!” 

He was helpless to do anything but obey, their eyes still locked as she writhed atop him in the throes of their mutual orgasm, slick tight wet flutters of her cunt on his cock as he filled her with his seed, as she took him, as they made each other whole. 

A loud boom, a rattle, the harsh blare of the alarms, and the mirror cracked, a jagged line down the center of her face. 


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _He let her kiss him, let her mouth move slowly and carefully against his, let her tongue taste his upper lip, tracing the sharp bow, let her explore the generous lower, let her slip inside, sipping from him, and he was quiet and still, his breathing remaining calm even as hers hitched and sped, until she teased the tip of his tongue with hers and then retreated, her teeth tugging at his lower lip, her nose nudging his cheek. He made a rough sound in the back of his throat, one of his gloved hands rising to tangle in the back of her bound hair, the leather catching a little, a slight tug, and Kittani whimpered, a needy, hopeful sound even as he let her ease back._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, guys, guys! You're AMAZING. I love you. Here, have some Kylo fantasies and Hux adorableness. Things will get...bad...soon. I'll try to tag the chapter with possible triggers when we get there.

Dr. Kletgh reminded Kittani of her mother’s father: he was squat and square with a large belly, squinty eyes, and the softest, gentlest hands. She felt a bit like a resident again as she followed him from patient to patient, nodding or commenting on their prognosis or diagnoses as appropriate or as he let her, his rounds slow and ponderous but incredibly kind. At lunchtime, he blinked at her over the rims of his spectacles when she asked if there was lab space available. “Why, didn’t you get the…well, of course you didn’t, the First Order and their promises of efficiency…” He continued on in this vein, a mini-rant on staff to outcome ratios, flow charts, and forms in triplicate as she followed him through two sets of pneumatically sealed doors and into another, smaller room. The walls and floor were white and cold and sterile, one wall solid rock like in her quarters, and it was filled with laboratory equipment: cell regenerators, mass spectrometers, a kolto apparatus, a bacta tank, microscopes, tubes and bottles and beakers, a fully working research station. 

“This is all yours.” Dr. Kletgh patted her lightly on the arm when she made a little sound of greed in the back of her throat. “Why don’t you work in here a little? If someone new comes in, I’ll have a droid summon you.” 

Left alone, she found herself wandering aimlessly, booting up the workstation only to turn away from the holonet after only a few minutes of reading, picking up and then setting down a specimen jar labeled _EXORGATH STOMACH_ , tinkering with the mass spectrometer only to leave it spinning an old blood sample she'd found sitting on a shelf. She found herself after a couple of hours sitting in a chair, legs curled up and crossed under her, transcribing her long-hand notes on Kylo Ren's treatments and recovery using the voice actuator. “After seeing Master Ren's lightsaber, it's likely the plasma burns and half-cauterized wounds to his face and to both of his shoulders were caused by such a weapon. Having done some research, see appendices G, H, and K, it is also possible that the treatments I created using a mixture of medigel and stimulants, see Table 13 for the components and Table 14 for the formula, are not new but, in fact, well-documented treatments for lightsaber wounds. Further, I believe the process can be improved upon, perhaps by utilizing...” 

Finally caught up in her work, Kittani was flummoxed when the room's comm switched on without her authorization and a holo of General Hux was hovering ten inches from her face. “There you are,” he said in a cheerful tone completely at odds with his starched demeanor and she smiled at him automatically even as she straightened a little in her chair. Though the holo was, as usual, blue and indistinct, there was something comforting in Hux’s sharply boned face, in the reserved smile he offered in return for her sunnier one. “Dr. Kletgh said he'd given you leave to work in the laboratory. I hope you find it satisfactory?” 

“Yes, thank you, the lab is marvelous.” She paused, raised her eyebrows. “Did you do this for me, Hux?” 

The reserved smile bloomed into an almost bashful grin and he ducked his head. Delighted as her stomach swooped pleasantly, Kittani rolled her eyes at him. “You can't keep giving me gifts, General.” 

“The fancy title says I can do what I like,” he said immediately, his eyes twinkling, and Kittani giggled. He unbent even more, something yearning in his voice as he said, “Pleasing you pleases me, Kittani.” 

How was she supposed to not find that, _him_ , endearing? “It's a very well appointed lab, Hux. Thank you.” 

“Excellent. I’m glad I could provide for your comfort.” Sincerity rang in his voice, sincerity and pride. He paused and turned away for a moment, the audio feed cutting out even though she saw him speaking. He was issuing orders, orders she wasn't meant to hear. And tapping away at a datapad, she was pretty sure, his shoulder moving. Was he working while he flirted with her? 

Before she could puzzle it out, the audio kicked back in and he was looking at her once more. “I was hoping you would join me for dinner this evening. 1900 standard time in my quarters.” 

Phasma's advice from earlier flitted briefly through her mind, how she could do worse, how he would understand if she refused him. Did she want to refuse a man who made sure she had lab space, who listened, who obviously, or maybe despite himself, cared? 

Before she could formulate an answer, Hux frowned. “Forgive me, Kittani, but I must go. I hope to see you tonight.” And the holo disappeared as the door to the lab whooshed open behind her and then beeped, signaling someone had locked it. 

Kittani glanced over her shoulder, the fond smile for Hux still lingering on her lips, to see Kylo Ren standing an arm's length from her chair. He was dressed to intimidate in a full-body black robe belted in wide black leather at his waist, his lightsaber hilt secured at his left hip, black leather gloves and boots and as she watched he set aside something black and silver and obviously heavy that thunked dully on the table before advancing on her with a lazy grace. His mask. He'd set aside his mask. “It seems our General is quite taken with you, Dr. Juznik,” he drawled mockingly. “Are you, I wonder, quite taken with him?” 

The Knight’s eyes were darker today, his long, pale face more distant than ever, closed and set, the scar bisecting his cheek not so angry and red but puckered now and pink, a testament to his suffering and her abilities and she found herself swaying toward him as he used a gloved hand to swivel her chair so that she faced him. He knelt, caging her in neatly by grasping the handles to hold her still, his knees bumping her shins, and she found it hard to breathe, suddenly, her lungs constricted as her mind rippled as if someone had stroked over it with a tender fingertip. “Or has someone else been on your mind?” His voice was velvet over gravel and Kittani felt her nipples peak as if he’d stroked them with his thumbs. 

“Stop it,” she managed, shuddering, and one of his dark eyebrows quirked. 

“Do you not like me rummaging in your thoughts, kitten?” he rumbled and she felt it again, the slow glide and swirl of fingers through her mind, seeking and soft but not demanding, and instead of answering she capitulated and leaned forward, pressing her mouth lightly to his. 

He let her kiss him, let her mouth move slowly and carefully against his, let her tongue taste his upper lip, tracing the sharp bow, let her explore the generous lower, let her slip inside, sipping from him, and he was quiet and still, his breathing remaining calm even as hers hitched and sped, until she teased the tip of his tongue with hers and then retreated, her teeth tugging at his lower lip, her nose nudging his cheek. He made a rough sound in the back of his throat, one of his gloved hands rising to tangle in the back of her bound hair, the leather catching a little, a slight tug, and Kittani whimpered, a needy, hopeful sound even as he let her ease back. 

“Hello,” she said inanely, flustered as Hux's generosity was replaced with Kylo's dark, sexual pull, and watched in fascination as Kylo's jaw clenched and his throat bobbed as he swallowed, the flush along his cheekbones telling its own tale of how the kiss had affected him. She should have been alarmed by the sharp stab of triumph in her stomach, should have been terrified when his eyes narrowed on her face, harsh and angry, and the gentle fingers in her thoughts suddenly grew claws, but instead she followed instinct and reached out. He was breathing harder now, his eyes black holes surrounded by stars, and she felt herself fall into their gravitational pull, her fingers tracing the arch of his brows, the sharp point of his chin, the vulnerable curve of his ears, the width of his shoulders in the heavy black robe that she suddenly, viciously wished gone. She wanted to touch, and taste, and stroke, and lick, wanted to leave a mark on his pale skin that would purple and bruise. 

“Such wicked thoughts,” he growled and she shuddered for him again, her eyes fluttering closed as his free hand left the chair to spread over one of her breasts, grinding her aching, throbbing nipple into his palm, the abrasion pulling a gasp from her. She arched her back into the touch, shameless as she chased the leading edge of pleasure. “What if I don't want you touching, kitten? What if I want you bound, spread for my pleasure?” His hand in her hair contracted when her only answer was another needy sound, the pleasure/pain making her breathless, her legs shifting restlessly in the chair. She felt his mouth brush her cheekbone, the corner of her mouth, the sensitive spot on her neck right below her ear that had her hands fisting in his robe at his throat as awareness ran over her skin like fire. The fingers in her mind caressed now, lingered. “Can you imagine? Lying on my bed, your hands bound above you.” 

She saw herself through his eyes, naked, on display across royal purple Lashaa silk bedsheets, her wrists circled by lined manacles and secured to a hook on the wall, her unbound hair spilling over her shoulders, a golden tangle that gave him tantalizing glimpses of her round breasts and one mauve pink nipple. Saw herself as he saw her, gorgeous and luscious and ripe, her eyes too big for her face, beautiful. 

“Spread open, waiting for me, wet and wanting.” His voice continued to croon as he licked her pulse point, deftly sliding his hand into the placket of her uniform shirt, the leather of his glove rasping against her breast as he cupped it again, kneading and stroking through her undershirt and bra. 

In the vision, his eyes slid down her body on the bed to her sex, bare and pink, glistening in the low lights, open to him, black cord coiled around her ankles and calves, securing them to her thighs, trailing over the edge of the bed to more hooks under the mattress. As he watched, she tested the restraints, arching toward him in invitation, and she felt, _felt_ , his lust flare hot and wild and harsh, dangerous. 

“Open to my mouth, my hands, my cock.” He kissed her lips, featherlight, his tongue slipping in delicately, and Kittani moaned and tried to take more. He deepened the kiss, his tongue tangling with hers, his other hand sliding out of her hair, down, down her side until he pushed her legs off the chair and wide apart and pressed his hand over her sex. His breath was hot as it brushed over her parted lips, his voice a dark, dense, dangerous purr. “Kittani. Look at me.” 

She managed to obey, barely. Raw, naked need was writ plain on his face. “Do not misunderstand. I am not a kind or patient or gentle man. I will be cruel, and brutal, and there are secrets I will never tell you.” He paused and something flickered, pain or regret or longing, in the galaxy of his eyes, and Kittani felt her heart tremble. “I can offer you nothing other than this.” His hand flexed between her thighs, a fingertip dragging over her slit, and she sank her teeth into her lower lip in order to keep her eyes open. “Come to me at 1900 hours. If you do not, I will assume you have chosen Hux.” His fingertips slid up until they were pressed unerringly to her clit, a hard, breath-stealing rub. “Whatever choice you make, kitten, there will be no going back.” 

As before, he left her with a tender kiss to her forehead, a body and mind aching for his touch, and the new, uneasy feeling there were things he hadn't said. 

OoO 

Silence stretched as thin as a garrote, tight on his throat, and Hux felt a bead of sweat slither down his spine. Supreme Leader Snoke, tall and thin and stretched, half of his jaw missing, his face scarred more than wrinkled, watched him with the patience of a sarlacc hoping for his next meal to stumble down his throat. Next to him, two steps down from the huge stone chair, hands held loosely together before him, legs slightly spread, radiating serenity and wearing that damnable mask, was Kylo Ren. 

“Supreme Leader…” Hux finally ventured and was cut off by a lazy hand motion from Ren. 

“You will do what the Supreme Leader asks and you will do it now.” 

“I will do what the Supreme Leader asks and I will do it now,” Hux repeated dutifully and strode from the room. 

The sounds of retching could be heard as the blast doors slid closed. 


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _She shivered despite the humidity, wrapping her arms tight over her breasts and turning away from the sea. What was happening to her? Where was the level-headed, calm, patient doctor who had sex because it was a normal bodily function she enjoyed, thank you very much, but never got involved? Why was she torn between a man who would, given the opportunity, make her his partner and a man who would, given the opportunity, make her his slave?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm still sick. On the plus side, when you can't breathe you stay up all night and write more, so yay? Again, those of you reading, commenting, kudo'ing, you're the best.

Kittani was not by nature a person who needed air and green spaces and sunlight. She’d been raised by a family of research scientists, all of them more inclined to ergonomic chairs and reading glasses and comfortable mogo sweaters than running or swimming or using a speeder. Certainly she kept fit; someone with her hips and breasts and love of fine food couldn't lead a completely sedentary lifestyle and the First Order demanded she spend at least one hour per day in the climate-controlled room they provided on every base and starship where droids helped her tone, sculpt, and sweat. She found she could tolerate that especially as they didn't seem perturbed she read on her datapad or listened to a holo with earphones while she ran or rowed or boxed or lifted but going outside for a hike? Unnecessary and potentially deadly, depending on the planet. 

Until the second kiss, series of kisses, the _encounter_ with Kylo Ren. 

She'd fled like a teek out of the lab, almost running through the cold metal corridors and the endless blast doors, brushing rudely past anyone who tried to get in her way, the grey slashed with red medical officer bar on her sleeve leaving her mostly unmolested until she stepped out, finally, into the warm, moist air and lifted her face to the light rain that was falling from the sky, letting it bathe her face, letting it cool her overheated skin. 

This base, wherever they were, had been carved out of almost solid rock and hung, precariously, over the ocean. She stepped almost to the edge where duracrete met rock and peered over the railing, down, down, looking at but not seeing the waves crashing again and again against the rocky shore, a loud, booming echo, relentless and timeless. She saw only Kylo Ren as he touched her between the legs and promised her a choice even as his voice snagged and the corners of his expressive eyes flinched. 

Kylo wanted her. The fantasy he'd given her had been too polished, too perfect, to not be one he’d had many times since he’d seen her face on the shuttle, since she’d saved his life and he’d called her pretty. Submission. He wanted, needed, _craved_ her submission, craved her willing and pliant in his bed, wanted to ease his rage and his lust and his...his pain on, _in,_ her body. 

She shivered despite the humidity, wrapping her arms tight over her breasts and turning away from the sea. What was happening to her? Where was the level-headed, calm, patient doctor who had sex because it was a normal bodily function she enjoyed, thank you very much, but never got involved? Why was she torn between a man who would, given the opportunity, make her his partner and a man who would, given the opportunity, make her his slave? 

She wished she’d never been on that shuttle. Wished she’d stayed far, far away from General Hux and Kylo Ren and this terrible tangle where her mind pulled her in one direction, her body in another, and her heart trembled on a terrible precipice. 

“Dr. Juznik. You have been summoned to the presence of the Supreme Leader.” 

Dazed, frustrated, and at the end of her tether, Kittani followed the cadet and tried her best not to wish she had a blaster in order to shoot the messenger. 

OoO 

She was sleeping. 

The sight arrested him at the door to the bedroom, his heart stuttering in his chest before resuming, a fast, unsteady cadence as the door slid nearly silently shut behind him. The only illumination in the room bathed her in soft, synthetic moonlight, washing out some of the natural golden tone of her skin, turning her hair to silvery blonde, but it only made her appear a goddess, an altar at which he wished to worship. 

Beautiful. How, when, why, what had he done to deserve such beauty, such perfection? 

How, why, what, when would he lose it? 

He padded closer to the bed, his palms itching to stroke over her where she lay sprawled as was her wont, his pillow clutched to her chest and tucked under her chin, one shapely leg over the blankets, his black tunic used as a nightshirt riding high on her thigh. Carefully, not yet ready for her to wake, he urged the fabric higher with a fingertip so that it revealed the curve of her bottom. She shifted and licked her lips, squirming until the leg atop the covers was even farther from its twin, the tunic slithering up even more to bunch at her lower back, and he swallowed hard as this bared her sex to his gaze, the thick pouting outer lips kept smooth by his wish and through her indulgence beckoning him to explore. Never one to deny himself what he wanted, he sank down onto the edge of the bed and trailed the pads of his fingers over the delicate flesh between her legs, motions slow and careful but insistent, circling her clit, tracing the edge of her opening, tickling the thin flesh behind it where she was particularly sensitive, dipping in as she flushed and became damp, flowering open for him. A long finger eased into her heat and when she sighed and rolled completely onto her stomach, lifting her bottom up into the air, into his touch, he obliged her unspoken demand by sinking a second finger into her and crooking them toward her belly. Her cry was sleepy and half-aware, the roll of her hips wicked as her wet slick walls sucked on his fingers, and he was lost. 

Rising to his knees behind her, steadying himself with one hand on her hip, he freed his cock, already weeping, and was inside of her with one good, hard thrust. The feeling was exquisite as she clamped down tight, as she rolled her hips again, and he glanced down to find her blue green eyes open and watching him from where her cheek was pressed to the bed, her pupils expanding with each snap of his hips. “Missed you,” he panted, leaning forward so his chest was draped over her back. He nuzzled her jaw, his cock still moving steadily in and out of her, until she turned and opened her mouth for him as she had opened her body for him. He sucked lightly at the tip of her tongue, his fingers slipping through her folds to rub her clit, and he felt her ripple and pulse in response. “Going to come for me?” he growled when her back arched higher beneath him, when she bucked and squirmed, and he kissed her again, and again, and again until she tore her mouth away, her eyes drowning in black. 

“Coming, oh, oh, oh, yes, coming, for you, coming, so…so….ahhhhhh!” 

Her orgasm triggered his, a few stuttering motions of his hips, and she made a breathless whine as he pulsed endlessly inside of her. Sated, alive, home, he sank down onto his side and pulled her into the curve of his body, her back to his front, careful not to let himself slip out of her even as he softened, as her breathing evened out into sleep, her sunshine hair tickling his chin. 

“I love you,” he whispered, voice broken. 

She was gone when he woke, her side of the bed cold and empty. 


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _The woman, the humanity, inside of her was gibbering in terror, huddled in a quiet, dark corner of her mind and praying to whatever gods and monsters, but not to_ this _monster, that the Supreme Leader would soon be done staring at her as if she were a specimen under the microscope. He’d done nothing but stare since the cadet had deposited her in front of the chair…throne? … and though Kittani had never been one for fidgeting, she was hard-pressed not to squirm._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
>  I am four chapters ahead of myself on posting and...things just got sad. I don't like it. Snoke is creepy here - we're seeing why the dubcon tag is there but not the result of it, yet - next time. But yay Finn/Rey and Luke & Leia! Also, yes, we learn who Rey is. Readers, you guys are still amazing. Commenters, love it!

The base was built on some sort of temple. An old, eerie temple down twenty flights of stairs into the belly of the mountain where an equally old, exceedingly creepy...thing ruled the First Order from a huge stone chair, his gnarled fingers curled over the arms, his body stretched thin, looming without moving at all. The doctor, the scientist, in Kittani was busy cataloging all of the scars and the half-missing jaw and the strange misshapen fingers that were incongruous with his body, and the bone-white tinge to his skin and yellow cast to the whites of his eyes that spoke to her of some very long illness that was eating away at him slowly, from the inside. 

The woman, the humanity, inside of her was gibbering in terror, huddled in a quiet, dark corner of her mind and praying to whatever gods and monsters, but not to _this_ monster, that the Supreme Leader would soon be done staring at her as if she were a specimen under the microscope. He’d done nothing but stare since the cadet had deposited her in front of the chair…throne? … and though Kittani had never been one for fidgeting, she was hard-pressed not to squirm. 

“Come closer, girl,” he demanded suddenly in a ponderous, deep-throated whisper, curling his fingers, and Kittani obeyed, stepping slowly up the five stairs onto the dais until she was within arm’s reach. He took advantage immediately, reaching out to lay his hand on her cheek in a mirror of Kylo Ren. His hand was cold and clammy, oily against her skin, and she felt something disgusting and murky skitter across the surface of her mind that had her jerking back with a gasp before she could check the impulse. “Stand still,” he commanded, fingers sliding down to curl around her throat, and the skitter retreated only to spike into a million tiny needles jabbing into the nerves of her spine as if a droid’s neural transmitter had been plugged into her brainstem and was attempting to overload all of the circuits of her body, to rewire her to a different purpose. She cried out, trying to curl in on herself, the hand at her throat tightening until her vision began to grey at the edges, holding her immobile before the Supreme Leader as his bulbous eyes seemed to follow the twists and turns of her memories. 

“So you kept my Knight from dying in the snow,” he said finally, the pressure easing enough only so she could suck in a quick breath that burned. He tilted his head when she didn’t answer, rather like a carrion bird, and shook her. “Girl, speak.” 

She coughed, winced, swallowed, tried to find her voice. “Forgive me, Supreme Leader. Yes. Yes, I healed Kyl…the Master of the Knights of Ren.” 

“Kylo, is it?” The Supreme Leader tilted his head the opposite way and his expression might have been a grin on a face that was less ruined. The rictus of his mouth was anathema to Kittani, her stomach roiling, made more so when he leaned in until he was wheezing into her face, his breath stinking of sulphur. “If I break him again, piece by piece, do you think you can put him back together?” He raised his voice, looking past her, his hand keeping Kittani from turning to see. She knew who had entered the cavern before the Supreme Leader spoke, however, as a chill raced up her spine. “Kylo Ren! Is that what you want from this tasty little morsel? Do you want a place to put all of your pieces?” 

For anyone else, it would have been a bawdy joke, casual banter between master and pupil but Kittani heard no laughter from either man. The Supreme Leader's eyes were sharp and cruel on her face, his hand contracting again around her neck, his thumb almost caressing her windpipe, as the heavy tread of someone, of Kylo, crossing the floor and then up the steps echoed to the beat of her pulse. Once he'd reached the Supreme Leader's side, he turned, standing at parade rest as she'd seen him or Hux or a thousand First Order stormtroopers do before, but today, today after he'd had his fingers between her legs and shared his fantasy with her and offered her a choice, it was a shock to find him looking like every other Knight of Ren: he was wearing his mask. 

Kittani hadn't realized how much she relied on her ability to read Kylo's expressive face until it was hidden from her behind metal and duraplas, until he was just one more faceless tool of the First Order, of the Supreme Leader who continued to hold her in a bruising grip, watching her like a whip-snake, cold and deadly and beyond intelligent. She shivered and the Supreme Leader laughed, low in the back of his throat. “I can see why this one appeals. She saved your life, she’s beautiful, and she’s ripe for the plucking.” 

He seemed to expect no response, his fingers on her throat tightening once more, nearly lifting her from her feet as if she weighed nothing, as if his stick-thin arms were powered by some mighty engine. “General Hux seems quite taken with her. Why, if you want her, have you not put him, and her, into their place?” There was a warning in his voice as he turned to look at Kylo. “Does compassion still weigh on you, my Knight? Does the weakness that allowed you to be defeated by the scavenger keep you from taking what is yours by right?” 

Silence met this pronouncement. Neither man moved as Kittani hung suspended between them, a pawn in a game where she didn’t know the rules. Kylo never turned to her when he answered, slowly, his mask distorting the smooth, deep timbre of his voice until he sounded hoarse, almost alien. “General Hux is an important part of your plans, Master.” 

“And he will serve as you will serve, without question,” the wraith on the throne returned, the threat clear in his voice as he swung Kittani around, offering her like a sacrifice. “Take what you want, Kylo Ren, or be replaced.” 

“And if I no longer want her?” Kylo inquired. 

“Then she is mine.” Kittani whimpered when the figure dragged her closer, closer, until she dangled between his knees, his breath and his eyes dropping to her body, stripping her bare, exposing her. She repressed a shudder of revulsion when his pale tongue flicked out millimeters from her skin. She couldn't stop the sharp sound of appeal she made, couldn't stop her hand lifting to Kylo, palm up, even as shame battled for dominance with panic, and she could see how impossibly wide her eyes were in her too pale face in her reflection on his mask. 

At her gesture Kylo stepped forward as if gravity had suddenly become much stronger, each step slow and careful and measured as he approached her and his Master. She wanted to see his face, oh gods, oh gods she needed to see his face as he ranged himself next to her, turning so he was shoulder to shoulder with her. The Supreme Leader's smile was wide and pleased and dreadful, gloating and triumphant, and he dropped her so fast she fell to her knees, her hands rising to her battered throat as he sank back into his great stone chair. “Show me, Kylo Ren,” he ordered and as Kylo's mask, black and silver and gleaming, turned down to her, as Kittani looked up, she suddenly understood what, exactly, Kylo Ren was being ordered to do: the Supreme Leader desired that the Master of the Knights of Ren claim her, subjugate her, _fuck_ her, in front of him. 

Her choices had been suddenly and terribly and permanently ripped from her tenuous grasp. 

OoO 

Rey was meditating when she felt the tremble in the Force. The rocks she had been carefully stacking tumbled and her hazel eyes slid open to find Master Luke turned away from her, his pale blue gaze on something at the bottom of the hill. “Your friends have come for you,” he said in his careful, slow way and Rey tilted her head, the echo of another voice superimposed upon her Master's, squinting as she tried to puzzle it out. 

“Rey! Rey!” Finn barreled over the crest of the hill, nearly tripping over himself in his haste, and she was so shocked, so pleased to find him on his feet, to see him whole and moving and _here_ , she was up and across and in his arms, everything else forgotten in the rush of being squeezed nearly to death, before she could make sense of anything else. Over Finn's shoulder she could see General Organafollowed closely by Poe and BB-8, General Organa who was glaring at Master Luke as if he were a First Order recruit and Poe whose normally wide smile was hesitant and worried. 

The General marched right up to Master Luke, marched right up to him and punched him, hard, in the stomach. Master Luke made a pained sound and doubled forward, expelling a harsh breath. “Ow,” he said and Poe sidestepped the tableau to clap Rey lightly on the shoulder. Unsure whether to rescue her Master or to keep gawking, Rey was saved from having to make a choice when the petite woman threw herself bodily at her brother, her small fingers clutching in his robes, her body trembling as she held on. 

“You are the most stubborn, idiotic, stupid piece of bantha shit in the entire galaxy,” she said fiercely but there were tears on her lashes, her brown eyes brimming over. 

Master Luke's hands came up and curled around her face, pressing gently, and he dropped his head down until their foreheads touched. And oh, oh the _Light_ around them, the _Force,_ and Rey nearly couldn't breathe as Master Luke whispered, “I love you, too, Leia.” 

Rey lost sight of them, of her uncle and her _mother,_ holding each other tight as Finn lifted her to her toes and said, “Shut up,” before he kissed her. She was so surprised, she let him. 

And kissed him back as Poe and BB-8 whistled. 


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Above them, Snoke huddled on his massive throne and stared down, down at the bottom of the stairs where Kylo led Kittani, the pretty doctor with the huge, terrified sea-green eyes, and placed her like a sacrifice on the cold stone slab, the altar that he had hoped to never see again and where Snoke wanted to watch Kylo take her, make her his lover, his plaything, his slave. Bend her to his will._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the pacing will change a little, as will the format, from here on out. I've finally worked out a plot. Also, Kittani has finally made a choice (I'm four chapters ahead, shhh, you'll get to see it, too, eventually). Fear not, the man left behind will get his. **Warning: This chapter starts with majorly dubious consent. Just because she might like it, or appears to, does not mean it's appropriate or healthy in any way.** Enjoy Hux enjoying himself, too, yeah? Some mention of anal play, too. Just so you know.

Kylo wasn’t going to take off his mask. In fact, he wasn’t going to disrobe much at all, his black leather gloves gleaming dully in the pale light of the cavern as he methodically pulled them off, as he set aside his lightsaber, unhooked the wide belt from around his waist, rolling up the outer robe she’d hated so much earlier before adding it to the pile, leaving him wearing a tight black undershirt, black pants of synthetic armor material that looked but did not feel like leather, his heavy combat boots, and the mask. 

Above them, Snoke huddled on his massive throne and stared down, down at the bottom of the stairs where Kylo led Kittani, the pretty doctor with the huge, terrified sea-green eyes, and placed her like a sacrifice on the cold stone slab, the altar that he had hoped to never see again and where Snoke wanted to watch Kylo take her, make her his lover, his plaything, his slave. Bend her to his will. 

Kittani, so sweetly curvy, trembled as he peeled away her layers, revealing her like a fruit ripe for devouring, her uniform shirt, her boots and socks and pants, the surprisingly feminine panties and bra all folded neatly to join his pile of clothes on the floor. He reached for the pins in her hair, wanting to see the wavy spill of warmth and light and sunshine but a rustle from the direction of the throne aborted the movement, reminding him that Snoke was watching and cataloguing and would remember. He pressed her back onto the cold stone, kept his eyes on her face, her lovely oval face with her arched eyebrows and top-heavy upper lip and curling gold lashes, as he lifted her knees and spread her legs, fingers probing. 

As he’d hoped, she proved still damp from earlier, slick enough that the sound was a wicked wet glide as his long, slender, pale finger disappeared inside her. He continued to watch only her face even though she couldn’t see him in the mask as he curled the finger up, searching, searching, until her hips suddenly bucked up from the stone and she gasped, louder when he let his thumb brush briefly over the little bundle of nerves at the apex of her sex and a fresh flood of her slick coated his fingers. Satisfied that he wasn’t going to hurt her and still hyperaware of Snoke’s malevolent presence, he made quick work of the fastenings on his pants, pushing them and his underwear aside only enough to free his cock. He used the hand he’d had between Kittani’s legs to stroke himself, clenching his teeth in the mask to hold in the sound he wanted to make as she whimpered and shifted, her small hands almost reaching for him, her eyes hungry and watchful as his cock flushed and filled with blood, as a bead of clear liquid appeared at the tip. 

“Kylo…” she whispered, hopeful and scared and wanting, and it tore at his control, made his spine ache as he held in the shudder. Bracing a hand next to her hip on the stone while he used his other to position himself, nearly hissing as he felt how scorching and soaked and soft she was against the swollen head of his cock, he leaned down over her body until the tips of her breasts, tight from the cold and, maybe, from anticipation, brushed against his shirt, until the visor of his mask was hovering over her eyes. Saying nothing, as there was nothing to say, he thrust forward, a hard push, and buried himself inside of her to the hilt. 

The cry she made was somewhere between surprise and pleasure and he fisted his hands at her side as she squirmed beneath him, her tight sheathe shifting and pulsing and stretching to accommodate his invasion, to take him, to hold him. He could hear her panting, quick little jerky breaths that made her magnificent round breasts heave against him, and he pulled almost all of the way out before surging back in, faster this time but just as deep. She rolled her hips and made another sound, this one clearly of enjoyment, and Kylo bit his lower lip until he tasted blood as he started fucking her in earnest, the muscles in his arms and neck and back cording with tension, with restraint, with the dim, remembered echo of what it was supposed to feel like to have someone open to him, vulnerable. 

Wanting. 

He wasn’t going to last long, especially not when she curled one of her lovely legs over his hip and arched up underneath him, one of her hands rising to clutch at his bicep, her gorgeous eyes never wavering form his mask. Around him, she was heat and light and everything perfect and good and deep in a corner of his mind that he’d locked long ago out of necessity and duty and ambition, the latch rattled in time with the quick beat of their hearts, and just as he reached between them blindly, reached to touch her, to help her to bend, to break, to shatter, to come for him, on him, with him, agony speared into his gut, into his legs and back and arms and down his spine. 

Behind him, behind them where he was still pistoning in and out of Kittani, Kittani who was sweet and giving and intelligent and pure, Snoke laughed, high and wild. 

Kylo pulled out abruptly, pumping his cock, wet with her, in his fist once, twice, a third time, and came all over her stomach and breasts. He ignored her mewling sound of discontent and loss, tucking himself back in his pants and avoiding her accusing, sad eyes. 

“Get dressed,” he said flatly, turning away from the sight of her gorgeous body glistening with his spend. Once he was sure she would obey despite the mutinous set to her mouth, he looked up toward Snoke as he gathered up his own discarded items, the robe and the gloves and his lightsaber bundled up in a heap under one arm. “Your leave, Master?” 

Snoke waved his hand dismissively, his gaze sharp and watchful. He said nothing but neither did he turn away as Kittani finished dressing, as she tried to jerk away when Kylo curled a hand around her elbow. 

“Don’t test me, girl,” Kylo said shortly, ignoring her hot and painful stare as he marched her out of the throne room. 

“Where are you taking me?” she finally managed to ask, stumbling to keep up with his long strides through a different corridor than the way she’d entered. She was aware of the sticky residue clinging to her skin under her clothes, of the emptiness between her legs, of his harsh breathing even through the helmet. She wanted, she _needed_ , to be angry. She wanted to want to rage and scream and slap him but as he opened a door and shoved her inside, as he threw his cloak and his lightsaber into a corner of the empty room and released his helmet with a hiss, dropping it with a dull bang on top of everything else, all she could do was stare. 

He was furious. His chest was heaving, his eyes dark and wide and wild, and as she watched, he turned and slammed his fist into the wall, again, and then again, until she heard the distinctive crunch of bone and blood was flowing freely. When he raised his other hand, obviously prepared to repeat the action, she stepped forward and grabbed his arm, aware that she was too slight to really stop him, aware that he let her, and she swore, for half a second, that he was going to turn and bury his face in her neck and hold her. 

“I can make you forget.” There was no inflection in his voice, no hint of his feelings on his face, the rage gone in a blink. It was unnerving, his emotions mercurial and uncertain. 

“What, by fucking me nicely this time? Maybe you'll even let me enjoy it?” she asked, her mouth too fast for her brain. It was the closest she was going to come to berating him, the little bit of pride she'd managed to find in all of the disappointment and crushed expectations crowding her. How pathetic. 

A fine tremor went through the arm she was still holding as his beautiful mouth compressed. “No. I can erase the memory. It can be as if it never happened.” 

She'd wanted him to say yes. She'd wanted him to sweep her up into his arms, wanted him to kiss her and touch her and slide back inside of her, wanted him to make her come, to see his face when he came. What was _wrong_ with her? He'd just fucked her in front of the Supreme Leader, just debased her, denied her agency over her own body and sexuality and she wanted to strip him out of his ridiculous black clothes and ride him until they both screamed. 

He must have taken her silence for assent. The hand that was not bleeding and broken lifted and curled oh so gently around her throat, gossamer tendrils of his power soothing the bruised skin, and she felt those soft, caressing touches swirling across her mind, so different from his Master, so sweet and giving, and Kittani made a yearning sound in the back of her throat as he leaned down, his mouth hovering over hers. His voice, his beautiful, deep voice, smooth and rich, echoed with persuasion and power as he murmured, _“You will forget. Forget, my lovely girl, my sweet Kittani, forget.”_

His beautiful, drowning eyes were the last thing she saw as darkness swept over her. 

OoO 

Hux was nervous. It had been some time since he'd been with a woman, too fastidious for the pleasure slaves and too concentrated on his quick rise to General to bother with emotional entanglements with his fellows, and so as time ticked down to closer and closer to Kittani's possible, probable _, probable_ arrival, he was pacing his quarters, nervous and aching and wondering if he was going to make a fool of himself before he ever touched her. 

He'd been half-hard for most of the afternoon, ever since he'd holo'd her in the lab to find her curled up in a chair, legs tucked under her, smile wide and bright, and now that he was alone with his thoughts, thoughts of her golden hair and big eyes and lovely lips and quick laugh, thoughts of kissing her magnificent breasts, of cupping her curvy hips as he thrust himself inside of her, he was throbbing, his uniform pants absurdly tight. “Dammit,” he growled, sinking down onto the edge of the lounger in his front room, hands squeezing his thighs hard, trying to take deep breaths to ease the heaviness between his legs. That only seemed to make it worse, his cock twitching at having even _his_ hands so close. 

A memory, vague, of a long-ago discussion with another recruit at the academy came back to him. “Yeah, mate, you want to last longer with a girl? Use yer own hand to take the edge off. Long as you can get it up again when she's there, o'course. 'Sides, girls like dick okay but they like hands and tongues better!” 

Quite aware he was grasping for an excuse to touch himself and hoping he wasn't being exceptionally foolish, he confirmed that the main doors were locked and then locked his bedroom door behind him, as well, deciding that if he was going to come, he'd prefer to do it in privacy and comfort. Masturbating was usually a quick wank in the 'fresher, a few fast pumps of his hand capable of handling the job of relieving tension and making him relaxed enough to rest. Tonight, however, he wanted to think about Kittani, wanted to pretend she was here with him, wanted that image in his mind so that when she was here, better than his fantasies, he'd have a plan. 

Armitage Hux always preferred to have a plan. 

He turned down the lights in his bedroom, plumped some pillows against the headboard, set out lube and a towel, and paused before the mirror hanging at the end of the bed after slipping out of his uniform and briefs, eyeing himself critically. He couldn't do much about his pale skin, about the scattering of freckles on his chest or shoulders or back, the smattering of ginger hair on his chest that arrowed down to a slightly darker thatch that he kept ruthlessly groomed, but he could be proud of the width of his shoulders, the lean muscles he cultivated with a couple of hours in the officer's gym every day, and his cock, he'd been told, was decent, long and slender and curved slightly to the right. 

He hoped it would please Kittani. 

He sighed and tried to find a comfortable position on the bed, finally settling for one leg bent at the knee, the other out in front of him, closing his eyes while warming the lube between his hands and imagining her. How her skin might feel under his fingertips, soft and supple, wondering if the full curves of her breasts beneath her uniform were due to structural engineering or genetics, how their weight would feel filling his palms, if her nipples were pale pink and small or dark rose and large, how they might taste as they tightened on his tongue, if she would moan for him when he licked up the delicate line of her spine or nibbled at the arch of her foot. 

Hux gasped, arching into his hand as he swiped his thumb over the sensitive head of his cock, imagining her taste on his tongue, hot and sweet, imagining the way she would bite her lip when he looked up from between her legs, his tongue buried inside of her, and stroke over his face with her fingers. 

He groaned aloud, a half-stifled sound, and slid his free hand down to cup his balls, squeezing them in counterpoint to the quick strokes of his hand, a fingertip pressed hard to the thin, sensitive skin behind his sac, and wondered how her mouth, top-heavy and full, a pretty bow and always such a lovely pale pink, would look wrapped around his dick, sucking him, pulling on him, taking him deep as her cheeks hollowed. 

The hand on his cock sped up, tightened to almost-pain, as his fingertip slid back a little farther and stroked the edge of the tight ring of muscle, teasing himself, wondering if he'd have to teach her, if her small, capable fingers would be long enough, as long as his own, to reach the little patch of sensitive flesh that nearly always made him come immediately. Would she be willing to let him show her, guide her, would it please her to have him writhing for her, to make him beg? 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Hux muttered, gasping on each syllable, his hips bowing up from the bed as his balls tightened, close, so incredibly close at the thought of Kittani bent over him, her sweet voice murmuring for him to come for her, the head of his cock purple and distended, and just as his finger slipped inside and stroked, just as the coiled tension in his abdomen tightened and then snapped, come spurting all over his fist and chest, the comm in the front room began its high-pitched, blaring alarm. As he'd programmed it to do, it answered after four cycles to record the holocall, playing the sound throughout his quarters. 

“General Hux, there's been an accident in the Knights' compound. Supreme Leader Snoke asked that you be summoned at once!” 

The chronometer on his bedside table read 18:15. 


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You use the weapons at hand but wield them with honor,” she murmured and Hux smiled down at her approvingly, the door they'd been told was the medbay whisking open as they reached it.
> 
> “Just so,” he agreed as they stepped into the room, the sentiment one his father had voiced many times throughout his childhood and one he, himself, believed. Rules. Order. Centralization. The First Order was poised to bring chaos to heel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The reaction to this story continues to make me blush. You guys are the best! Sorry for making you wait extra for this one. Also, you should see what a [tooka](http://starwars.wikia.com/wiki/Tooka) looks like. SO CUTE!

Kittani met Hux at the transport that was waiting to take her the ten klicks to the Knights of Ren compound, wondering if he was as discombobulated and out of sorts as she. The call had come on the comm in the lab, the lab where she'd apparently fallen asleep working because she had nearly jumped out of her skin when the little holo figure popped up, one of the base's captains informing her she was needed at once and to bring her med kit. She'd rushed about, wondering why the pretty lace undergarments she'd put on earlier in the day felt more like serviceable cotton, why the small tube of lip balm she usually kept in her right pants pocket was now in her left, and why in the galaxy two of the pins in her hair were poking her at unreasonable angles, hair that felt like it was still wet hours after she'd been in the 'fresher. 

Hux smiled at her, tightly, a little up-tilt of his lips, and waited for her, offering his hand to help her up into the vehicle before clambering in next to her in the back. He raised an eyebrow at the startled look his action received from the driver. “Problem, soldier?” he barked and the girl shook her head quickly, darting a glance over Kittani that had the doctor narrowing her eyes in return. This seemed enough to spur the girl into action and they set off with a jerk. 

“Any idea what's happened?” she asked finally, tilting her face up to his to find him already looking down at her, his blue eyes appraising. As if unsure of his welcome, he reached slowly for her hand, curling his long fingers around it when she made no protest, resting the back of his hand on her thigh. “I'm sorry we're going to miss our...” She trailed away, not wanting to be presumptuous and not completely certain the driver couldn't hear them. Did it matter if the driver knew? That was probably in a manual somewhere. Along with forms in triplicate. Now she sounded like Dr. Kletgh and she was babbling in her own head from a little hand-holding. Shit. 

“I only know there was an accident. I, too, am sorry we’re going to miss our evening together.” His other hand covered hers, trapping it between his, and Kittani hmmed her pleasure in the contact and let her thigh relax just a little so it pressed against his. He squeezed her hands lightly in response and leaned closer. “There will be other nights, I think?” 

His eyes were very, very blue and surrounded by the loveliest red gold lashes and his mouth wasn't thin at all, a generous curve but not wide, the little bump in the bridge of his nose making her wonder if he'd broken it sometime, and his hands on hers were warm. So warm. She'd opened her mouth to say yes, was charmed by the hints of eagerness and boyish enthusiasm in his crisply accented voice, when the transporter stopped with another bone-jarring jerk. “We're here,” their driver said sullenly and Hux gave her hand one more squeeze before sliding out and helping her down as he'd helped her up. 

'Here' was a set of blast doors that led directly into the mountainside, guarded by a pair of masked individuals, one with a heavy weapon that Kittani thought might be considered a pike and the other with a vibrosword that was wider than any vibrosword Kittan had ever seen. Both weapons glowed faintly with malevolent red energy like Kylo Ren’s lightsaber. 

Would he think she'd chosen Hux? Or did he know what had happened among his Knights? 

_Had_ she chosen Hux? Did she intend to never have Kylo's hands on her again? 

A sharp pain started at Kittani's temple and zigzagged across her forehead. She rubbed at her head absently as Hux greeted the two guards with a First Order salute which they both returned indolently. “We were told there was an incident.” 

The taller of the two guards nodded and punched in a code on the access panel, waving them in. “Down three flights, first door on the right, stay in the hallway past two branches, and then the last door on the left will be the medbay,” the second guard, the one with the sword, instructed, startling Kittani as the voice through the modulator was most definitely female. 

She tried not to shiver as the doors slid closed behind them. 

“How many Knights are there?” she asked. Hux shrugged as they followed the given directions, the insides of the compound surprisingly less sterile than the base, less durasteel and transparisteel and black and more stone and rot and damp, the stairs wide and smooth with age and the tramping of countless feet. Old. The place felt old and wise and forbidding. 

“I'm not sure. The Knights are outside my chain of command completely.” He grimaced, his palm spreading out across her back after they stepped out of the stairwell and into the hallway. “The Supreme Leader feels they are best suited for situations where formal military operations are at best unwanted and at worst hopeless.” 

“You don't agree.” 

“The Supreme Leader carries his title for a reason, Force power aside, and I don't question his judgment. Only, perhaps, his methods.” 

“You use the weapons at hand but wield them with honor,” she murmured and Hux smiled down at her approvingly, the door they'd been told was the medbay whisking open as they reached it. 

“Just so,” he agreed as they stepped into the room, the sentiment one his father had voiced many times throughout his childhood and one he, himself, believed. Rules. Order. Centralization. The First Order was poised to bring chaos to heel. 

“Oh, gods,” Kittani whispered at his side, looking beyond him into the room. He turned and had to swallow back a hot rush of bile. 

The Master of the Knights of Ren was lying atop one of the tables, his right arm bent at the elbow at an unnatural angle, knuckles bloodied and fingers crooked, his left shoulder hanging loosely in the socket, his legs a mass of bruises and cuts that bled freely, some that were so deep they could see the white wet flash of bone, a left knee swollen to twice its size, and the wound on his side from the Wookie’s weapon was as raw and red, so much meat, as if Kittani had never healed him. Around his neck were purpling bruises, the signs of having been choked. His face was unmarked. 

“What happened here?” Hux managed as Kittani rushed into action, already calling for the med droids and for the bacta tank to be filled. To Hux's shock, Kylo Ren's eyes blinked open. His right pupil was blown and he had to be in tremendous pain but his gaze was calm, steady, otherworldly as he looked first to Hux and then to Kittani, Kittani who stopped, her hands hovering over him, horror warring with concern on her lovely face. 

The Knight's voice was broken, cracked and rusty, and blood dribbled out of his mouth. “Honor always comes at a cost.” 

OoO 

Leia ran a hand over the wavy brown hair, lighter than her own or Han's, the wavy brown hair that had been snarled more often than not when Rey (Breha) was a little thing, rushing after her big brother with breathless wonder and little feet, and wondered how she'd managed to keep the three bun style that had been of Ben's (Kylo's) devising. So much time lost. Their baby boy, their sweet little girl. Han would be (had been) proud of the woman, the Jedi, that Luke believed their daughter to be. 

There was a long pause and then a slim arm slid around Leia's shoulders, a tentative squeeze. 

“Mother.” 

They sat in silence, Rey easing them both into meditation, into the space between. 

_You can't save everyone, tooka._

_I can try._


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _The woman's mask swung to take in Kittani and if she'd had to guess, she'd bet an eyebrow was raised in scorn and judgment under it. “Dr. Juznik, the Supreme Leader commends you for your excellent...service...to Kylo Ren.” The insult, and its implication, was clear. What followed was less so, the drawl changing to crisp, clear diction. “The Supreme Leader would like to extend to you the great honor of serving as the personal physician to the Knights of Ren. He would be most pleased if you would, in fact, continue to closely monitor Master Kylo until he is once more fit for service to the First Order.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't decide whether to write both ways I think this story could go or stick with the one. Maybe I'll do the one and then give the second a side story of its own. For now, here, have sads. <3 for comments and kudos and just the general love for Kylo, Hux, and Kittani. Hang on for more goodbro!Phasma. Gonna try to make this one pass the Bechdel Test.

The damage to Kylo was extensive and gratuitous, most of it apparently violence for violence's sake. _Torture_ , her mind supplied and the headache that kept pushing at her, had been pushing at her as she labored over her once and again patient, spiked through her occipital lobe, pulling a grimace from Kittani. She could take a pain capsule but they made her muzzy and disconnected, kept her from being sharp enough to recognize when he needed back in the tank, when she needed to adjust his medications, when he needed another skin graft. 

He'd almost been dead. Not from the wounds they had seen but from the internal bleeding, bleeding she'd had to stop by boring into the base of his skull, by removing his spleen, by repairing a hole in his lung, by pumping him so full of blood and fluids and smearing him in bacta and kolto that it felt like an ocean had passed through him already. 

Hux, sweet, considerate Hux who had been stern and frustrated and disgusted and had come and gone over the past weeks with food and caf and concern written all over his face to find her haggard and pale and sometimes with blood up to her elbows, had encouraged Dr. Kletgh to reassign her exclusively to Kylo's care. Dr. Kletgh, after assisting her throughout the surgeries, had been impressed enough with her skills that he'd relented. “You do good work, Dr. Juznik,” he'd praised and all Kittani had been able to do was nod, wondering how many pieces someone had to lose before they were broken beyond repair. 

She'd moved into a small room off the medbay, quarters with their own outside door and an inner connecting one that had been empty for some time judging by the layer of dust on every surface, leaving her with the impression that the Knights of Ren did not usually have a physician of their own. It was one more thing to consider later, after she was sure Kylo would be able to walk and talk and breathe and kiss her like he was a man starving and she the most luscious, and forbidden, of treats. Which was a completely inappropriate thought and made the pain in her head batter at her temples and spread into her neck, her posture already poor from days and weeks and hours spent hunched forward, tending to Kylo or writing notes or sleeping next to the tank while he was submerged, her cheek pressed to the cold, cold transparisteel. 

“ ‘fresher.” He hadn't spoken since his talk of cost, in and out of consciousness and heavily sedated and with a breathing mask while in the tank and a tube down his throat while outside of it until just the day before when his lungs had started working on their own, and she was slow to respond as she wheeled closer on her stool. His eyes were still closed, his long dark lashes absurd against the pasty grey of his complexion, and Kittani wanted to touch him, wanted to take his hand and lift it to her face, wanted to press her mouth to his heart and feel it beat. 

“You can't get up yet,” she managed, contenting herself with realigning the blankets over his chest. 

“Not me. You. For the...” He coughed, cursed, turned his head toward her and opened his eyes slowly, blinking even in the low lights of the medbay. It was well into the middle of the night, Kittani's sleep dictated by his convalescence, and she'd been keeping the lights low when she wasn't monitoring him, trying to preserve her sense of night and day and failing miserably. “Water?” he asked, the corner of his mouth quirking, and that was it, Kittani was done, and she dropped her head to his uninjured shoulder and started to cry. 

“I thought you were dead. You _were_ almost dead, bleeding in your brain, bleeding into your chest cavity, bleeding into your abdomen, there was blood and bone and oh gods, oh gods, Kylo, you can't...you can't...” She couldn't catch her breath, great, heaving sobs tearing out of her chest, her fingers sliding down to clutch at his, giving in and bringing their hands to her face, her tears falling faster when he cupped her cheek, his thumb brushing over her cheekbone, wiping away the fat, salty drops, and his eyes were tender and soft in a way she'd never seen before. 

“What did you do to me? Why am…what _is_ this?” she managed and apology, apology and regret and the faint flicker of anger moved across his face as he shook his head. The med droid brought water and, tears still tracking down her cheeks, Kittani helped Kylo sit up, helped him take a drink but when she would have pulled away, would have gotten some much needed distance by checking his injuries, he instead tugged lightly until she was half-lying across his chest, her cheek over his heart, his fingers discarding the tie in her hair and spreading it over them both. 

“You keep saving my life. Maybe this is your fault.” There was a thread of truth in his words and she tilted her head so she could see his face through the curtain of her hair. He was smiling lopsidedly, giving him the air of someone much younger despite the scar marring his face and Kittani rolled her eyes, still stinging with the vestiges of her tears. 

“I'm sure I'm not the first doctor who's ever patched you up and put you back on your feet.” 

He traced the shell of her ear, the arch of her cheekbone, his roguish grin easing into frustration and guilt as he touched her throat. “You're the first pretty one,” he amended and then sighed, his hand sliding down to find one of hers, tangling their fingers together. “You weren't what I was expecting.” 

This enigmatic statement would have to go unquestioned as the door to the medbay slid open. In marched a Knight of Ren, masked and armored and, if the huge sword was anything to go by, the female one from door duty so many days and nights ago. Kittani's supposition was proven correct when the Knight said, a smirk still somehow evident in her voice, “Master. The Supreme Leader wished for me to check on your progress.” 

Kylo went unnaturally still, his hand spasming in hers, but his voice was bland. “As you see, Serenna.” 

The woman's mask swung to take in Kittani and if she'd had to guess, she'd bet an eyebrow was raised in scorn and judgment under it. “Dr. Juznik, the Supreme Leader commends you for your excellent...service...to Kylo Ren.” The insult, and its implication, was clear. What followed was less so, the drawl changing to crisp, clear diction. “The Supreme Leader would like to extend to you the great honor of serving as the personal physician to the Knights of Ren. He would be most pleased if you would, in fact, continue to closely monitor Master Kylo until he is once more fit for service to the First Order.” 

Slowly, Kittani sat up, frowning, squeezing Kylo's hand in hers to bolster them both. “I have no intention of abandoning my patient. As for the offer, I am of course honored to serve in whatever capacity the Supreme Leader deems necessary.” 

Serenna bowed once from the waist. “The Supreme Leader will be well pleased, Dr. Juznik. As a reward, General Hux has agreed to move your laboratory space into the Knight's compound.” 

Hux. Right. Kriff, shit, fuck, shit, hell. “Thank you, Knight Serenna, and please convey my thanks to both the Supreme Leader and to General Hux.” 

“Your will be done.” The Knight turned to Kylo and bowed once more, more formally and elegantly. “Master. The Supreme Leader trusts you know his desires regarding your training.” 

Kylo inclined his head regally. “I will explain to Dr. Juznik. You are dismissed, Knight Serenna.” 

“Master.” 

Once she was gone, Kittani turned her confused frown to Kylo. He, too, was frowning, a fierce, angry glare directed at the door. “This is bad,” she concluded. 

“Yes,” he agreed. His look for her was weary resignation. “I need out of the medbay sooner rather than later. What can we do to make that happen?” 

“Before, you...accelerated your healing. By...Hux thought it was meditation?” She made a vague gesture with her free hand at him. 

He grimaced. “That's not a possibility this time.” He paused, pursed his mouth and drew his dark eyebrows together and made the inclination to kiss him rise up sharp and hot in her belly. Kittani had to look away briefly. “Those stims you were thinking about so loud on the shuttle. Are those viable?” 

“Yes,” she said instantly, then more cautiously, “But I can't guarantee...I'd have to be sure you're completely...Kylo, they're designed to increase your stamina. If you push too far too fast with them, you could injure yourself permanently.” 

“Never tell me the odds,” he said with a ghost of his earlier smile, some hideously ugly emotion lurking beneath it. 

She gave in and leaned down to press her mouth, hard, to his, a bruising kiss full of teeth and tongue and all her relief that he wasn't dead, relieved beyond all measure when he speared his hand into her hair and gave as good as he got. “If you die, I'll kill you myself,” she promised against his mouth. 

“Yes,” he said again, quieter than before. “Go find Hux, kitten. He's looking for you.” 

What sort of man kissed her like that and sent her off to his rival? 

What sort of woman kissed him like that and then _went_? 

The headache had Kittani's vision running in streamers of color by the time she found Hux. 

OoO 

He heard the door open and then close behind him, the old-fashioned door that wasn't metal but wood, solid and sturdy, and the soft whisper of her feet through the grass. He kept his head tilted back, his eyes on the dark ocean of stars above, as she slipped in behind him, her slender arms sliding around his waist, hands spreading out over the plane of his abdomen, her cheek pressed to the back of his shoulder. Her voice was teasing, her breath warm on his back, raising goosebumps, tightening his nipples. “You left me.” 

“You were sleeping. And a very intelligent doctor tells me you need your rest.” He let amusement color his voice, let his body relax slightly until he could feel the softness of her breasts through her thin bedgown, and had a hard time quelling the start as her hands slid down into the loose waistband of his sleeping pants to find him already more than half interested in her proximity. Curling her fingers around his cock, she pumped him lazily and made a hmming sound of discovery when he arched into her touch. 

“Couldn’t keep your hands to yourself?” she teased, nipping the back of his neck and he made a low rumble in his chest, fisting his hands in the grass as his cock jerked in her grasp, her palm twisting over the sensitive, leaking tip. He had abandoned her in their bed, her glorious hair spread out over her pillow, her hand tucked under cheek, and sought the solace and quiet of the night to keep from touching her, her pull as inexorable as the tide. And just as dangerous. 

“Aw, my poor guy, deprived and aching. Couldn’t you have just taken what you wanted?” 

She squeaked as he turned suddenly and pounced, pressing her back into the grass, her thighs falling open on either side of his, her gown riding high as he ground himself down against her. His grin was wide and pleased and arrogant as she moaned shamelessly. “Is that what you wanted me to do, Kittani?” he growled, reaching between them to free his cock, using it to part her folds, dipping into her only to withdraw and slip over her clit, and if he’d loved her less it would have been obscene how wet she already was, always was, for him. When she made no answer except a breathless exhale, he leaned down and nudged her jaw with his nose. “That’s not an answer.” 

In response, she used her hips and legs and momentum to flip him over onto his back, hovering over his long, lean body for only a moment before she sank down onto him, taking him into her in one fast, hard glide that tore a sound from both of them. He’d let her overpower him, of course, and he didn’t let her keep the upper hand long, only long enough to pull her gown up and off, tossing it aside, a ghost in the dark, before he rolled her back under him, his thrusts lazy and deep, his body curved over hers as he leaned down, nuzzling her nipples with his mouth. “So sensitive,” he murmured when she spasmed around him at the light touch. 

“That’s your fault,” she managed, voice breathless, the last word ending on a high little whine as he stopped moving and sucked, his mouth pulling on her, his tongue laving, and her hands slid into his hair, her nails raking over his scalp. He released the captured flesh with a pop, pursing his lips and blowing, rolling his eyes up to find her looking down at him, lips parted, her tongue darting out to wet them. 

“I didn’t do it all by myself,” he returned with another self-satisfied smile and she sighed as he pressed his smile to her mouth, as he brushed his lips tenderly against hers, his tongue slipping in to tease and taste. His hips resumed their rhythm from before, a little faster, a little deeper, one hand sliding down to capture her thigh, pressing it up and back, opening her to him, and she sank her teeth into his lower lip hard enough to make him gasp. 

She slid her fingers between their bodies, found the center of her pleasure and circled it, lightly, teasing them both as she brushed his cock. His mouth slid down from hers to suckle at the thin skin under her ear, his fingers finding and exploiting the responsive curve of her spine, digging in, kneading, stroking in time with the rolling snap of his hips. He felt the little flutters that heralded the beginning of her orgasm, reveled in the little gasping cry she made as he demanded, “Come for me, love.” 

The stars above seemed to wheel and dance as she pulsed endlessly around him, his own hoarse shout of her name heralding the climax she drew from him so effortlessly, his cock swelling inside of her, wide and deep, before exploding. They clung for a moment, his face buried in the tangle of her hair, her hands lazily stroking his back and sides as she shivered in the wake of their mutual surrender. 

He was gentle as he eased her leg back down, as he rolled back over into the fragrant, crushed grass, as he slid out of her. Gentle and then suddenly frantic as she made a little sound of distress and curled in on herself. 

There was blood, a dark smear, where they'd loved only moments before and the trickle of it down her thighs. 


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _He had the small table set, the lights muted, and a glass of muja juice, which he had managed to discover from Phasma was a favorite of Kittani’s, set out when she came back in, eyes bleary. Hux steered her gently away from the table as she moved to sit, urging her through the doorway into the refresher. “Clean first,” he reminded then nearly swallowed his tongue when she started stripping away layers without any regard for where they landed or how much smooth, golden skin she was revealing. Her breasts, he discovered, were not engineering at all, and her ass was a marvel and he had to leave the room before he made a complete and utter fool of himself._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have a cute Hux and some Finn/Rey. Not really smut because...geez, you guys, you'd think that was all you were here for! ;o) Much <3 still. I hope to wrap this up in 6 more chapters. I'll let you guys know if that changes.

The pills Hux coaxed her into taking did, indeed, make her muzzy and disconnected. Though she'd managed to cobble together a few of the stims before the headache completely overwhelmed her, nearly sicking up as Hux arrived, he'd had to cajole her into taking something for the pain. Now she was staring up at him dazedly while he tucked her tumbled hair behind her ears. 

“Kittani. You have been working very hard. Let me take care of you, hmmm?” 

“I can't leave him alone for very long.” She'd already been gone for three standard hours though she'd had the foresight to lock the door of the compound medbay to only her identity scan. Would that, she wondered, keep out someone like Serenna? Or the Supreme Leader? 

“Then let me come down with you,” Hux said reasonably. “I can have dinner and a holovid sent down. We can have our missed opportunity and you can take a chance to relax, all while we're close to your patient.” 

“I will likely be a very poor companion,” she admitted, trying to stifle a yawn and failing. 

Hux had the absurd urge to cuddle her into his lap and kiss the top of her head. He might, he thought with an out-of-character touch of whimsy, do just that if she'd let him. “Then I will make sure you are well-fed and well-rested.” He watched indecision war with affection on her weary face and then she leaned in and hugged him, rising onto tiptoe for another of those endearing kisses on his cheek. 

“Hux. You're a sweetie. Send the request and ride down with me.” She tried a little grin for him, tattered but impish. “That captain who drives it gave me the stink eye again. I need your hand to hold to give her a reason to dislike me.” 

He laughed before he could check the impulse, a sharp burst of sound that had her grin blooming, the dimples in her cheeks winking at him. Already in too deep, he leaned down and brushed a kiss over the crown of her head. “Silly girl. Give me a moment.” 

She was nearly asleep on her feet once he'd ensured the deliveries and it was a delight to have her lean on him, her arm around his waist, his across her shoulders as they walked to the shuttle, and even sweeter to have her cuddled into him on the ride, curled against his side. She stirred a little when they stopped, her mouth settling into a pout that dared him to kiss it. Restraining himself, he murmured softly, “Kittani. We're here.” 

“Tired,” she muttered grouchily, fingers flexing where they held his shirt, eyelids fluttering but not opening even as he eased her up and out of the transport, daring the driver to say anything with a warning glance. She left with a sniff and a grind of gears, Kittani leaning almost all her weight against him. 

“I know you're tired,” he crooned, stroking his hand down her back and urging her forward, grateful when both guards at the door kept their helmets turned determinedly away, opening the doors without comment. “Let's get you into the refresher, into some clean clothes, have some dinner. You'll feel better.” 

This plan seemed to please her, enough that she blinked owlishly and followed obediently as he steered her down into the medbay. She fumbled at the door a bit, finally managing it, and Hux thought it was relief that had her breathing out long and slow when Kylo opened his eyes briefly. “Need to check him?” Hux asked and she nodded. “All right. I'll wait for the deliveries next door, then.” He waited to make sure she was steady on her feet before withdrawing. 

He had the small table set, the lights muted, and a glass of muja juice, which he had managed to discover from Phasma was a favorite of Kittani’s, set out when she came back in, eyes bleary. Hux steered her gently away from the table as she moved to sit, urging her through the doorway into the refresher. “Clean first,” he reminded then nearly swallowed his tongue when she started stripping away layers without any regard for where they landed or how much smooth, golden skin she was revealing. Her breasts, he discovered, were not engineering at all, and her ass was a marvel and he had to leave the room before he made a complete and utter fool of himself. 

The sounds of the water running, the transpirasteel door and imagining her hair dark and slicked back, of droplets clinging to her shoulders and her fingertips and the luscious curve of her mouth, had him stifling a curse and sitting down heavily in a chair, tempted to drop his head between his knees. This was unlike him in the extreme. Sex was a normal bodily function that he had no time or wish to indulge. Yes, yes she was adorable and intelligent and would make a fine partner for a General with higher ambitions, but if he truly wanted to make her his wife, he would have to seek permission from the Supreme Leader, from the chain of command, from his fath… 

Wife. He was thinking of Kittani as a wife. He gave in and dropped his head between his knees, closing his eyes as slick panic welled up from his stomach and curled in his throat. What the fuck was happening to him? It was like being carried on a fast-moving current, caught in a hyperdrive, flung out into the cold limitless darkness of space, Kittani the light, the stars, the promise of warmth. 

_Someone was fucking with his mind._ Of the Knights of Ren, only Kylo had an affinity with mind reading and a limited ability with mind control. And Hux wasn't a fool. He saw how the Knight looked at Kittani. So if not Kylo then...his next thought was seditious and treasonous and all-too probable. But _why?_

There was a sharp pain in his shoulder, a husky, malevolent whisper in his ear. “Don't be afraid, Hux. I feel it, too.” 

Darkness rose up and swallowed him whole. 

OoO 

Finn was not quite sure what to do with Rey. In his lap. Kissing him. Inappropriately. With her uncle and her mother and Poe and BB-8 just somewhere down the hill or around the corner or... 

“Shit,” he groaned and dropped his head back as her fingertips slid into the waistband of his loose pants and her mouth sucked lightly on the side of his neck. He was going to have bruises. Like, she was giving him bruises and he was going to come in her hand and she would laugh at him and then they could all go back to the base and laugh some at poor ex-Stormtrooper, touch-starved, sex fiend Finn. 

“Fiiiiinnnnn,” she wheedled softly, tugging insistently at his pants, her mouth now warm and tickling on his ear. “Be my cute boyfriend, Finn.” 

He narrowed his eyes at her, the hands that had been loosely holding her at the waist sliding up the slim line of her back of their own accord, enjoying how she arched and trembled above him. Testing her resolve, the little unbearable smirk on her plump, mobile lips making his cock twitch in her scarred, callused, perfect hand, he placed his own hands over her small, delicious breasts and squeezed. 

“Fuck,” he groaned when she arched and wiggled, her eyes bright and excited. 

“Yes,” she agreed and finally rid him of his pants with a shove of her toes. 

Luke Skywalker and Leia Organa-Solo were going to _kill_ him. 


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _He had never been able to control the dreams. They came with regularity; not always every night, not always once a week, but often enough that at the beginning, in the beginning when his world had narrowed to destiny and the price to be paid, he thought they were like a gift, an exchange for the soul he was selling, breaking, dissecting until he was a hollow shell, ready to be remade._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Non-negotiated kink, light bondage, spanking in this chapter, not meant as non-con or dub-con but could be seen as such, just as a warning. I'm still hoping for 20 chapters. I think that means we'll get a resolution for this plot but maybe a sequel? I'll keep you posted because, honestly? You guys make my day.

The stims did the trick. Within four standard days, Kittani had Kylo back on his feet, had him holding his lightsaber without trembling, had the pleasure of watching him work, slowly and carefully, through several different exercises in a small training room a couple of doors down from the medbay. “Sequences and forms,” he informed her as he twisted his wrist and shoulder, as he stepped forward and then slid gracefully back, pivoting to thrust toward her. “I prefer Vaapad but Shii-Jo is a good way to relearn, to get my feet back under me.” 

“I know you're speaking Basic but it sounds like Binary to me. This is part of the Force and lightsabers and mumbo jumbo, right?” She asked because she knew he’d answer, asked because over the course of this convalescence, their second together, they’d drawn closer, the sexual magnetism between them dampened by the necessity and urgency of getting him into fighting trim allowing for what she might have called friendship with anyone else. He was still recalcitrant, quick to anger over his own limitations, brooding and frustrated, but less distant, more approachable. 

He quirked an eyebrow at her, readjusting his stance, flowing into another movement. “Yes.” He didn’t elaborate. Yes, still obdurate and secretive but would he be the Master of the Knights of Ren if he weren’t? 

She stayed quiet for a bit, legs curled under her, elbows and chin propped on the back of the chair she was sitting in backward, mentally cataloging his winces and hisses and grunts, analyzing to see what treatments to apply and which to ease off after he was finished. He was favoring his left knee and dropping his left shoulder. More time in the ice bath for swelling, maybe an injection if that didn’t do the trick, and a massage she thought as she kicked out a leg, letting the chair twirl in a lazy circle. Yes, a massage, she had some oils that warmed to the touch, that had a soothing smell, and she suspected slow, deep motions of her fingers would help the tissues to relax, encourage them to repair, let her drag her nails lightly down his arms, up the inside of his thighs, over the taut muscles of his abdomen… 

Across the room Kylo had gone as still as a statue, his jaw clenched tight, and his voice was hoarse and low, a warning and a promise. “You’re trying what little patience I have.” 

She tapped her toe to the floor, considered lying, and then shrugged. “Yes.” She had been for the past four days while they lived in close proximity, sharing space and time and conversation, prodding him physically and mentally. She couldn’t seem to stop. 

“Why?” The question was flat but his eyes were watchful and guarded. “Lonely without Hux and even a broken Knight will do?” 

“You say that as if we haven’t been here before,” Kittani pointed out. “As if you’ve never kissed me, never offered to take his place in my bed.” 

“He’s in your bed, then?” Kylo’s mouth quirked, disgust or amusement, and twirled his wrist, his deactivated lightsaber hilt moving in a slow arc. “Good for you.” 

“Hux is off-world on a diplomatic mission for the Supreme Leader.” When Kylo made no response and continued to stare at her, she sighed. “You’d know, I suspect, if I was sleeping with Hux.” 

His exhale was long and slow and deep. “Yes.” 

“How can you kiss me like you do, touch me like you do, and want me to fuck another man?” Her voice hitched, just a little, and she licked her lips as Kylo flinched. 

They stared at one another for what felt like an eon. It was Kylo who broke, who carefully set down his weapon, who prowled closer with that same lazy, stalking grace that made her stomach bunch and roll, who turned her away from him and buried his nose in the back of her hair, his big hands sliding between her and the chair to spread open underneath her breasts. She purred like the feline he named her and leaned back until he was supporting her back against the wide plane of his chest, until she could slide an arm back and up, tangling her fingers in the curls at the back of his neck. She felt him press an open-mouthed kiss to the skin under her ear, to her jaw, to the corner of her mouth, and she was waiting, holding her breath, when he finally slanted his lips over hers. 

Pain exploded behind her eyes, in her temples, agony tightening her muscles, and she tore her mouth away as images and sensations flashed and danced and hurt, oh, kriff, it hurt, his mask hovering over her, his hand between her legs, the laughter of Snoke as Kylo left her aching and empty and alone, and she felt Kylo press his forehead to hers. His voice was thick with pain and loss. “I can’t be forgiven.” 

OoO 

He had never been able to control the dreams. They came with regularity; not always every night, not always once a week, but often enough that at the beginning, in the beginning when his world had narrowed to destiny and the price to be paid, he thought they were like a gift, an exchange for the soul he was selling, breaking, dissecting until he was a hollow shell, ready to be remade. 

Because they felt like a reprieve, felt like safety and warmth and forgiveness, he treasured them, used them to fuel the small corner of his mind he kept locked, carefully warded as he’d been taught to do so very long ago, long enough ago now that the lesson itself was all but forgotten. Inside that part of him, the part of him that was still his mother’s son and his sister’s brother, where he had not murdered his father or helped to destroy an entire system of planets or participated in the mass extinction of entire villages and the Jedi Padawans and younglings still learned and grew and thrived under his Uncle Luke, inside that part of him that still believed he deserved more than the legacy of a burned, wrecked mask, that's where Ben Solo dreamed of a future. 

Ben hada woman, a lover, a partner, a mate whose face he’d never seen, never even tried to see, his experiences of her always of smell and taste and touch, rarely of sight, and even then it was golden skin and lush curves and the impression of a lovely face. He had so little. Ben could make it enough, the glimpses of a future for which he ached. 

Kylo Ren was greedy. Greedier still when he was saved from the cold and the wet and the snow and the blood and the shock of Ben’s sister standing over him with their grandfather’s lightsaber, rage in her hazel eyes and power glowing around her like a halo. Saved by Dr. Kittani Juznik whose hands were small and competent and familiar on his skin, Kittani whose petite body was composed of planes and hollows and dips and swells he recognized, Kittani who tasted and smelled like love and comfort and _home_. Kylo Ren didn’t know those words, had no reference for such banal concepts, had been taught to hate and fear and despise compassion and hope and the Light, but he knew Kittani. 

Ben Solo had a woman and she was everything that was beautiful and perfect and good, his anchor and his hope. 

Kylo Ren wanted her more than he wanted all of the power in the galaxy. 

“Kneel.” 

She did, sinking to her knees before him, those competent hands shackled behind her back, her eyes as deep and wide and beautiful as the ocean, her knees spread as was only proper for the slave of the Master of the Knights of Ren, presenting herself to him, golden skin bare and perfect. He slid his boot forward, lifted it until it was pressed between her legs, the toe delving between the thick outer lips of her sex, and nodded approvingly when she shivered and yearned toward him, spreading her thighs wider. He rotated his ankle, scraping the leather across her sensitive, delicate flesh, his own skin tightening as her nipples pebbled, and he praised her again with a gloved hand fisted in the long fall of her sunlight hair, arching her back. 

“Such pretty breasts,” he murmured through the voice modulator of his mask, lifting his free hand to cover one of the large, round, heavy mounds as he lowered his boot back to the floor. She whined but, like a good slave, didn’t chase the sensation between her legs. Faintly through his glove he could feel the tight nipple against his palm, could if he tightened his fingers until they sank into her giving, soft flesh feel her heartbeat thudding like a trapped bird. 

“Thank you, Master,” she said and he nearly startled out of his skin at the sound of her voice, impish and not at all cowed or broken. 

_You want to break her._

Kylo used the hand in her hair to bring her to her feet, used it to lead her to the middle of the room where a hook was hanging from the ceiling, a hook that was at the perfect height that once he re-shackled her hands in front of her instead of behind and lifted them overhead, she had to stand on the balls of her feet to keep from pulling uncomfortably at her arms. The pose made her body appear longer, leaner, some of the softness leeched away, and he approved by letting his hand land hard on one tightened buttock. Her gasp turned into a surprised cry when he repeated the action again, again, again, pausing between each to knead and pull at the reddening skin, digging his fingers in here as he had on her breast, the breast that he knew would purple with bruises, marking her as his. 

“Look at yourself,” he whispered, his mask pressed tight to her cheek, angling her face down with the proximity. Her slender, vulnerable throat rippled as she swallowed, as she obeyed, her wide, glassy eyes, full of pupil, full of lust and wanting, glancing down with him across her body, her body where his hands played freely, tugging at the tight buds of her nipples, pulling, pulling until they bounced back against her breasts, standing proud and swollen. He gripped her thigh from behind and lifted it, spreading her legs obscenely wide, her sex obviously wet, pink and shiny, her slick quickly coating the gloved fingers he shoved inside of her and scissored, watching her face to make sure she saw his fingers moving in and out of her. “You like this, don't you? My fingers inside your cunt, fucking you. My marks on your breasts, on your ass.” Her breathing was fast and loud and harsh, her breasts heaving as she tried to roll her hips, to take more, stymied by his other hand still on her thigh, by her arms stretched above her, limiting her movement. He slowed the speed of his fingers inside of her, refused to crook his fingers forward, refused to let his thumb turn to press over her clit, giving her nothing except the slow, deep glide of the leather into her clenching, fluttering sex. 

_You want to take, not to give. To dominate, to possess, to_ corrupt. 

“You're wrecked and all I've done, kitten, all I've done is hurt you, played with your nipples a little, given you my fingers.” He ground the faceplate of his mask against her neck, scraping the scarred metal over her skin, and watched as she flushed dark pink, spreading down over her breasts, as she rose onto the tiptoes of the foot still allowed to touch the floor, listened as she whined desperately in the back of her throat. He added a third finger to the two already inside of her, her body welcoming him in as she jerked and trembled in his almost embrace. “You can’t come like this, from just my fingers, but I can keep fucking you with them all night. All night until it's just another sensation among all of the others, another thing to feel, another thing to want, another thing to crave as I lick and suck and bite your nipples, as I lick and suck and bite at every part of your cunt except your clit, as I use my hand on your ass, on your breasts, on your thighs, nice, firm smacks, slow, gentle rubs.” She cried out, sharply, as his fingers stilled inside of her, as he dropped her leg and pressed on the outside of it, squeezing his hand between her legs. “I could let you suck my cock, kitten. Come down your throat and leave you there, waiting and wishing and aching, my taste in your mouth, my marks on your skin.” He slid the hand on the outside of her thigh up, up, up, ghosting over her belly, her ribs, pausing to flick at each nipple in turn, until his glove was curled around her throat, his fingers turning her until she was looking directly into his mask, into the eyes she couldn't see. “I can do anything I want to you, Kittani, I'll take and take and take and you'll give and give and give and come back for more. Won't you?” 

_She's nothing, a body to use and to break._

“Always, Master.” Her voice was sweet, her smile wide and brilliant, and the emotions in her eyes were not disgust or fear or loathing but acceptance, excitement, and something softer, deeper, terrifying. He heard his heartbeat thunder in his ears, felt himself on the precipice of some dangerous, fast, long fall with no promise of a safe landing. 

_This is your bridge, my Knight. This is your moment. Solo was only the beginning. Show me who you really are._

“Kylo,” she whispered, calling her back to him. He blinked, stared at her, felt her ripple and pulse around the fingers still buried inside her, felt her lean _into_ the hand around her throat, and the emotion in her eyes exploded into a thousand shards of glass in his guts, in his brain, in his heart and his lungs and in his spine, tearing him apart. He shuddered, his hands falling away from her throat and from between her legs as she said, “I love you.” 

Kylo Ren tore the mask away from his face, tossed it away from him with a violent heave, took a long, unsteady, deep inhale that smelled of sex and violence and Kittani, and whispered, “No.” 

She didn't cry out when he called his lightsaber to his hand, when it powered on with a roar and he sliced through the restraints that bound her, didn't cry out when he tossed it like he'd tossed his mask, when he shoved her down onto the floor and moved between her legs, freeing his cock with hands that trembled. She didn't cry out when he pressed inside of her hard and fast and deep, only wrapped arms and legs around him, kissing his throat, his shoulder, his chest as he pounded in and out of her. She didn't cry out when he flipped them over so she was on top, when he pushed until she was sitting so he could rip off his gloves and touch her, stroking and teasing her clit as she rode him, her back supported by his upraised knees. She didn't cry out until he begged, his voice wrecked, his body slick with their sweat, his hips rising and falling beneath her, “Please, fuck, please Kittani, I need you to...come for me, oh fuck fuck fuck, now, I need...now, _please.”_

He had never been able to control the dreams. They had always ended as Kylo Ren, with petty tragedy or death or blood or loss. But the name she cried out as she tightened and fluttered around him, as she came on his cock, her hips stuttering, her ass grinding down against his balls, reforged him in steel and fire and the scalding burn of his own release as he spilled deep inside of her. He urged her down until she was curled up on his chest, her cheek over his heart, his arms around her, holding her, cuddling her against him. 

Kylo Ren bent his mouth to the delicate shell of her ear and whispered with Ben Solo's voice, “I love you.” 


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _So they would go out. They would have some drinks in the high dollar lounge on this neutral planet where the First Order paid handsomely for the privilege of no one caring they were from the First Order, maybe dance a little, flirt a little, and then come back here to this lovely hotel where, again, no one cared who they were, only that their credits were good, and then tomorrow they might go shopping or walking or something else frivolous and unnecessary and boring. It was perfect. It was normal._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again for reading and commenting and following. <3

“Are you sure about this?” Phasma looked unconvinced when Kittani nodded and tugged on her elbow. 

“Yes. I needed out. You needed out. You had shore leave. I had shore leave.” When Phasma still hesitated, her frown flickering from Kittani to herself in the floor length mirror, Kittani had enough presence of mind to stop and say, quietly, “Eirian. Let's go where no one knows who we are. Where you can tell an outlandish lie about your scars that will get us free drinks.” 

Phasma's mouth quirked and she shook her head. “No one is going to care about my scars when they see you in that dress.” 

“Well, but you have better legs. Legs to your ears, as I've heard them say.” Phasma snorted out a laugh and Kittani bumped her with her hip. 

Really, they both looked amazing if Kittani said so herself. Phasma had chosen a long column of cyrene silk, so dark blue it was almost black, a striking contrast to her porcelain skin, white blonde hair, and a perfect foil for her startling blue eyes. That it dipped to the dimples at the bottom of her spine in the back and was split high up her thigh, revealing the strength and power of her long limbs, was an added bonus. Kittani had opted for a dress that bled from palest pink at the hem, which flirted with her thighs in a flared skirt, to darkest rose at the heart-shaped neckline. It sparkled when she moved, the little crystals sewed into the fabric reflecting light, and the cut was flattering to her more voluptuous figure. Neither woman had bothered much with cosmetics outside of darkening their lashes, Phasma's hair swept back from her face in a flattering series of finger waves, Kittani's a messy not-quite-tangle low on her neck, and black, strappy heels doing wonderful things for both of their already wondrous legs. 

So they would go out. They would have some drinks in the high dollar lounge on this neutral planet where the First Order paid handsomely for the privilege of no one caring they were from the First Order, maybe dance a little, flirt a little, and then come back here to this lovely hotel where, again, no one cared who they were, only that their credits were good, and then tomorrow they might go shopping or walking or something else frivolous and unnecessary and _boring._ It was perfect. It was normal. 

“Why do I keep coming to you for normal?” Kittani asked conversationally once they were sauntering down the street. Phasma shrugged a shoulder and shook her head, her face bemused. 

“You're mad? Unhinged? Unaware of my awkwardness? Scared of my towering height and bulging muscles?” Kittani rolled her eyes and Phasma grinned back. “There are no other women of our rank on that kriffing base where they've stuck us?” 

“It can't be your stellar personality or dry wit,” Kittani teased as they reached their destination, turning her megawatt smile on the hulking sentinel droids guarding the door. Several people in the long line made a disgruntled noise when she and Phasma were waved in after an identity scan; several other people made a low whistle when the two women stepped into the flashing lights and loud synthetic music in the lounge. 

“Oh, this place is awful,” Phasma muttered, leaning down to Kittani to be heard over the music. “I love it.” 

Kittani’s high, musical laugh had several more heads turning, and a few moving away, as they made their way through the crowd to the bar. The place _was_ awful, honestly: too many people, too much scent, not any sort of diversity, just beautiful humans, a scattering of Twi’leks, and one very strange member of a species that Kittani, even trained as she’d been, had no idea how to identify. It seemed rather popular with several human males, however, and she wondered if that had more to do with its (she/he/they?) extra mouths or extra breasts. 

She decided, right then and there, she didn't care. She wouldn't care. She was care-less. And Phasma was the best friend to have in the whole galaxy because besides beauty and brains and brawn, she was a commanding presence even out of her uniform. People parted to let them belly up to the bar and the bartender, her gorgeous smirk slipping slightly when she realized she was at a perfect height to stare directly at Phasma's breasts or down Kittani's dress, was immediately smitten. And attentive. Phasma pointed to two suddenly empty bar stools and Kittani tossed her head and nodded. 

Four glasses of Corellian whiskey later, Phasma was telling a joke that involved a lot of hand movements and facial expressions and Kittani was holding her stomach in with her arms as tears ran down her cheeks. The bartender, their bartender who had sworn her first name was a filthy word for oral sex in Rodese so they called her Sue, was leaning on the bar on her elbows, watching the byplay with fascination and amusement. “Don't usually see First Order muckety mucks tellin' jokes,” she offered once Kittani had caught her breath and Phasma was looking smug. 

“Yes, well, not much to joke about when you blow up planets,” Phasma muttered finally and Kittani sighed and propped her elbow on the bar next to one of Sue's. 

“We shouldn't do that.” At Phasma's raised eyebrow, Kittani jerked a shoulder. “We shouldn't. Fear is great, right, great motivator except it pisses people the fuck off. And then they think, hey, let's make a rebellion because those guys over there are _assholes_.” 

Sue choked but Phasma laughed and leaned forward toward Kittani, lowering her voice. “Are you trying to get us demoted or killed, Juznik?” 

“I can lie and say I was too drunk to know what I was saying.” Kittani drained the dregs of her glass to prove the point then smacked it on the bar. “In fact, let's have another.” 

Sue scurried off for refills. Phasma tapped her fingers on the bar and watched Kittani twirl on the barstool, a half-spin. “Do you mean that?” she blurted finally, pulling in on herself when Kittani turned back and frowned. “The whole fear and motivation and...” She dropped her voice even though they'd long since convinced most everyone at the bar that they did not want to be disturbed and that they could and would buy their own drinks, thank you very much and so there were two empty barstools on either side of them. “Rebellion.” 

“Well, yeah, actually.” Kittani smiled at Sue when she plunked down two more glasses of whiskey. “Thanks. Now go play somewhere else while the grown-ups are talking.” She winked to take the sting out of the words but Sue was already turning away. “Hope she's not a spy,” Kittani muttered and Phasma laughed again. 

“If she is, she reports to me, so there's that.” 

“Oh.” Kittani picked up her glass and turned it round and round in her fingers, eyeing the amber liquid like it held deep secrets. “But yeah. Yeah, I meant it. I mean, you and I both see a lot of the 'trooper shit. We know why...why...” Kittani leaned way forward and hid her mouth behind her glass. “Why FN-2187 ran away.” 

Phasma exhaled long and slow, using a hand on Kittani's arm to cover up the movements of her own mouth. “This is not a good conversation.” 

“But a necessary one.” Kittani leaned even closer. “The Supreme Leader he...he made...he had...” She had to swallow back bile and despair, had to swallow back the wrenching memory of the look of longing on Kylo's face as she'd stormed out of the training room and away from him. “He ordered Kylo Ren to fuck me. While he watched.” 

“Oh, shit.” Kittani felt Phasma's hand spasm on her shoulder, saw the scars tighten across her face as she winced and looked vaguely sick. “That's disgusting. Are you...did he hurt you?” 

“No.” He hadn't. He hadn't hurt her, had made sure she was wet and ready, had been gentle even as he'd been inside of her. She closed her eyes and rubbed her knuckles over her forehead. Even now it made her head ache to think about it. “He did some sort of mind thing and made me forget. After.” 

“That's why the torture.” 

Kittani nodded, surprised when Phasma tugged until Kittani was leaned up against the taller woman's side. “We've turned into the bad guys, Eirian. When did we turn into the bad guys?” 

“I was raised to believe in the Order, in the old Empire. Raised to believe in the importance of law and order and the potential for chaos to explode into anarchy.” Phasma's voice dipped. “I'm a good soldier, a good captain. But I stood in the sands of Jakku and participated in the murder of an entire village.” She sighed, leaned her chin on the top of Kittani's head. “I don't want to be a bad guy, either.” 

OoO 

The coded message was hidden in a holovid and was five lines. 

Target acquired. 

Monitoring as advised. 

Interest in secondary target high. 

Green light on Objective Zeta. 

You were right. Don't get cocky, kid. 


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“Your pretty young doctor is well, General.” The voice was coming from the droid, he suspected, and someone was using a voice modulator to decent effect. There was a garbled chuckle that reminded him somehow of Kylo Ren. “You, however, should be aware that you've been captured and are currently being held in a secure facility.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which Hux is in a precarious position and Kylo has an existential crisis. We're close to the end, guys, and a sequel is looming large. To pheonixfawkes12 and msgeniuspa, your comments have kept me working hard to stick to a three day schedule. <3 (To the rest of you, too, of course, but these guys - every chapter. So awesome.)

Hux woke with a gasp, his arms flailing, to find he was in a small, windowless room, a room so small that he could barely stand, a room so small that when he stretched out in either direction on the cold, bare floor, the crown of his head touched one wall and the soles of his feet the other. A cell. He was in a cell, a cell with one access point, a door of smooth steel, three cold stone walls, a scratchy blanket, a thin mattress, dressed in comfortable if loose and plain trousers and tunic, and a camera droid in the corner recording him as he curled up, knees under his chin, and tried not to give into the need to rock. 

Think. He needed to think. He remembered being in the medbay, remembered ordering dinner for himself and Kittani, remembered helping her into the... 

“Kittani,” he breathed, his eyes darting around and then up to the camera. Had they taken her, too? Was she somewhere nearby in a different cell, scared and alone? Hurt? 

“Your pretty young doctor is well, General.” The voice was coming from the droid, he suspected, and someone was using a voice modulator to decent effect. There was a garbled chuckle that reminded him somehow of Kylo Ren. “You, however, should be aware that you've been captured and are currently being held in a secure facility.” 

So they'd seen Kittani which meant she had to be here somewhere. Were they torturing her? Would they torture her and then bring her to him, try to use her as a bargaining chip? Hux felt like his head was spinning in useless, painful, dizzying circles. The more he tightened his grip on his thoughts, the more they would slip through his fingers. “The First Order will not ransom me. We do not negotiate with terrorists.” 

“Terrorists, is it? Our operative seemed to think you might have seen the error of your ways.” 

“The First Order is not in error. We do what we must to maintain peace and order in the galaxy.” Didn't they? Shouldn't they? Hux shook his head, pressed his fingers to his temples. Focus. He had to focus. 

“Peace and order. I've heard that song and dance before, young man.” The voice managed to sound sad. “It always ends badly for everyone.” 

“No matter what you do to me, I will not betray the Order.” 

“We shall see, Armitage Hux. We shall see.” 

OoO 

It was decidedly odd to find herself sitting on a bunk in the Falcon next to her brother. He wasn’t wearing his bucket and his long legs were sprawled out helter-skelter, his shoulder-length black hair a mess of tumbled whorls and spikes. The scar she’d given him glowed faintly red in the dim light and she wondered if that was a trick of the shared Force dream or just his own projection of the way it felt. 

“Why here?” she asked conversationally, picking at her cuticles and watching him out of the corner of her eye, her legs tucked up under her. Usually he just invaded her dreams with thoughts and images and always, always the truth, even when it was brutal and painful. 

“Harder to run from you, I guess.” He looked tired, lines at the corners of his eyes and mouth, but at least he didn’t look half-dead like the last time he’d reached out to her. 

“Or yourself.” He snorted and she rolled her eyes and shoved herself over until she was under his arm, her own arm flung across his stomach. She felt him sigh, felt his lips press to the top of her head, and she squeezed him lightly. 

They sat in comfortable silence for a very long time. There were a thousand things they could have said to each other: 

“I’m sorry I killed our father in front of you.” 

“I’m sorry no one listened to you.” 

“Thank you for believing in me.” 

“Thank you for letting Finn go.” 

“Glad you didn’t die on Jakku where I dumped you.” 

“You’re an ass.” 

Instead, he nudged her with his mind, nudged her gently instead of storming his way in as he’d done on Starkiller, and she let him in, welcomed him in as she reached out in return, riffling through his head as he riffled through hers. She felt him brush against Luke’s face, against their mother’s, with longing and fear, felt his silent amusement at Poe and BB-8’s antics, his concern and brotherly aversion to the memory of Finn wrecked and grinning under her. She, in return, gave him her revulsion at Snoke’s torture of him, her interest and curiosity over Kittani’s face, and her anxiety and sisterly sympathy as he turned the pretty woman away. 

“What’d you do that for, you idiot?” she demanded. 

“Shut up,” he grumbled, pushing her out with a firm but gentle shove even as he leaned down and rubbed his big nose against her smaller one. She pouted prettily, an expression that tugged at memories and moments that he felt didn’t belong to him anymore. 

“You're him, too.” 

“Not so it matters.” 

Rey tilted her head up, poking him in the abdomen until he blinked lazily down at her. “Of course it matters.” He shook his head and she poked him again. “She’s gorgeous and smart and not afraid of you. I like her.” 

There were a thousand things he could have said to his little sister, his little sister with her power and her grace, who'd survived despite, or maybe because of, everything that had happened to her. There were a thousand things they _needed_ to say to each other. But Rey read his face, read his face and his eyes and his posture and peeked into his mind, the roiling vortex of pain and loss and fear and pain, and Rey, his sweet, tiny, fierce tooka, curled up and around him like a living, breathing vine, bigger than when she was five but no less loved. “Oh, Benny,” she whispered. 

Ben Solo buried his face in the curve of his sister's throat. 


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _The Supreme Leader made a sound somewhere between a gasp and a grunt and a choke and Kittani let out a broken whimper as the terrible gaping wound in her mind was suddenly, viciously, wondrously deserted. She pitched face-forward into the stone, into the pool of blood beneath her, once more whimpering in her wrecked voice, “Kylo. Kylo. Kylo.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it got away from me again. Have some creepy Snoke, Jacen not-a-Solo the Knight of Ren, and Rey and Kittani having a come to the Force moment. Remember the tag "unreliable narrator"? Yeeeaaaahhhhh. You'll get Hux in the final installments, a set up for the sequel, and maybe some actual answers. Maybe. >.>

There was a summons from Snoke waiting for Kittani when she arrived back on base. A summons that came in the form of Knight Serenna sitting at the table in Kittani’s quarters off the medbay, the quarters Kittani had locked before she’d left with Phasma, locked and secured. A lock that she had, she realized, disengaged in order to walk through the door. 

Serenna laughed, the sound a rich, sinful sound even through the voice modulator of her mask. Her booted feet were propped up on the table, her sword at ease across it, her arms crossed behind her head. The pose was idle but menace rolled off of her in waves. “Oh, kitten, no lock keeps out a Knight of Ren.” 

“Don’t call me that,” Kittani snapped peevishly, dropping her overnight case near the bedroom door. She turned to face her unwelcome guest and crossed her arms defensively over her breasts. “And stay out of my head.” 

“Ah, is that only for our Master, then?” There was a smirk in the other woman’s voice as she rose lazily to her feet and strolled toward Kittani, a hip-swinging walk that was perhaps meant to be enticing. Kittani saw her reflection blanch in the Knight’s mask but she stood her ground, tilting her head back to look up at the taller woman. The taller woman who reached out and trailed one slender finger down Kittani’s shoulder and arm, down, down, and then across to the other arm, up, up until it was resting quite near the pulse in Kittani’s neck. The pulse that had sped not out of lust or interest but out of fear as the Knight leaned in closer, crowding into Kittani’s space. “Such a pretty girl,” Serenna breathed, soft and low, the faceplate of her mask almost but not quite brushing Kittani’s cheek. “I’m sure Master Kylo wouldn’t mind if I took just one little nibble.” 

“The Supreme Leader would, Serenna.” 

Both women jerked, Serenna’s glove curling with some possession over Kittani’s shoulder as another Knight, tall, broad, and carrying a pike, stepped through the door. He dipped his head at Kittani, ignoring his fellow Knight completely. His voice was a low, comforting drawl even through his mask. “Sorry, ma’am, but the Supreme Leader requested your presence immediately. He’s gettin’ impatient.” 

“Then we should go,” Kittani said briskly, fighting off a tremble as Serenna’s fingers tightened to near pain before shoving her forward, nearly into the other Knight. He steadied her with a hand under her elbow and she let him, let him lead her out and down into the bowels of the compound, hyper-aware of Serenna's malevolent presence at her back. 

The Supreme Leader was sitting on his throne when they arrived, his fingers steepled under his chin, his expression contemplative and serene. “Thank you Knight Jacen, Knight Serenna,” he intoned ponderously as the male Knight pushed her gently down to her knees. “You are dismissed.” 

Once the Knights had withdrawn, he made a come-hither motion with his fingers. Kittani, feeling a bit like a puppet on a string, rose to her feet and trudged up the stairs with as much dignity as she could muster. She couldn't help glancing to the side, toward the big stone slab where Kylo had fucked her, and when she turned back she winced to find the Supreme Leader's eyes avid and eager, drinking in her expression. She tried, valiantly, to close it off and found no respite; the Force user just started digging around in her mind. It was as invasive as it had been the first time, oily and spiked and clawed, both unclean and tinged with manic glee as it discovered her memory of the final kiss with Kylo, her memory that was tinged at the edges with rage and humiliation and still, still, that desperate, driving desire for the Knight that overrode her common sense. 

The claws sank in deeper, a sharp tearing sensation, and suddenly Kittani was on her knees again, coughing up blood onto the ground, watching with horrified fascination as it dripped from her nose, painting the stone beneath her scarlet, and the Supreme Leader was cackling wildly above her, his hand hovering over her kneeling form, the claws raking, gouging, lacerating, penetrating, she could feel her mind shredding, sanity slipping through her fingers, and Kittani did the only thing she could think to do. 

_**KYLO!**_

She couldn’t be sure, as her vision wavered, turning black around the edges, if she screamed it the first time only in her head or out loud but she continued to scream his name, over and over and over, the sound reverberating in the cavern, in her mind where the Supreme Leader continued to scoop out her memories and emotions, drinking down her pain and her fear and her desire and her thoughts. Agony spread through her, malevolent and dark, her hold on reality slipping as she screamed and fought and sobbed, frantic and terrified and oh fuck fuck fuck she couldn’t die like this, she wouldn’t, she had work to do, patients to see, a mission to complete, orders to follow, they were _counting_ on her, she couldn’t let them down, couldn’t let _him_ down, she’d _promised_ and she always kept her promises, her word was only as good as her failures, she wouldn’t die, she couldn’t… 

The Supreme Leader made a sound somewhere between a gasp and a grunt and a choke and Kittani let out a broken whimper as the terrible gaping wound in her mind was suddenly, viciously, wondrously deserted. She pitched face-forward into the stone, into the pool of blood beneath her, once more whimpering in her wrecked voice, “Kylo. Kylo. Kylo.” 

By the time her rescuer lifted her into their arms, she had passed out from pain, shock, and blood loss. They touched the vein in her neck, found her pulse, thready but weak, and breathed out, long and slow. 

Knights of Ren Serenna and Jacen rushed into the room and found the Supreme Leader slumped over atop his huge stone chair, not one mark on him, insensible, his devastated face locked in an expression of shock, drool on his chin, blood at his feet. It was Jacen who had the courage to touch him, reaching out with his fingers and the Force, and reeled back, turning away to retch. 

Impatient, Serenna shoved Jacen aside and reached out herself, muttering about incompetent fools in general and men in particular. 

Her scream echoed off the cavern walls. 

OoO 

Kittani woke lying on a familiar cold metal table in the medical bay of a familiar shuttle. RN-525 was leaning over her, checking her vitals with a scanner, and made a clicking sound when it saw she was awake. “How is your head, Dr. Juznik? Do you require more painkillers?” 

Kittani blinked, touched her forehead, and slowly shook her head. When the world didn’t run in streamers of color and her head didn’t feel like it was going to pop off her shoulders and go rolling away, she said, “No. No, I think I’m okay.” She paused, took stock as the nursing droid waited patiently for further orders. Her whole body was sore as if she’d run several miles and when she pushed, she could feel the spot in her mind where Snoke had rummaged around, tender and sore but not as open or festering as it had been. “What treatments did I need?” she asked finally, wondering if she could attempt to sit up. 

It wasn’t the droid who answered. 

“Blood, fluid, a bacta patch or two.” The girl lounging in the doorway was wearing a familiar smirk on her equally familiar wide, mobile mouth, her pretty face surrounded by riotous golden brown curls, and her smile grew when Kittani narrowed her eyes at her. “Also some Force healing. Snoke did a number on your brain.” 

“You can say that again,” Kittani muttered, trying to ease into a sitting position, a fierce rush of vertigo causing her to sway dangerously. She slapped her hands down onto the table to steady herself, not taking her eyes off the girl. “Who are you, again?” 

“Easy there,” the girl said instead of answering, stepping lightly into the room and taking Kittani’s elbow in a callused hand. Kittani accepted her help with a grimace, leaning forward a little to try to keep her stomach from rebelling. “RN-525, how’re her vitals?” 

“She is functioning at almost peak capacity, Jedi Solo.” The girl ignored Kittani’s gasp, the tremble in the arm she still held though her hazel eyes softened as she nodded a dismissal to the droid. 

“Feel like you could eat solid food?” The girl made an apologetic face as she helped Kittani rise to her feet, steadying her once again when Kittani stumbled against her with a wiry, muscled arm around her back. The girl was taller than Kittani, more slender, and there was a strength in the lithe body that Kittani found herself envying as they took a couple of hesitant steps together; her own body felt heavy and weighted and ungainly in comparison. “First Order shuttles don't run to much better than protein paste or bread powder but it's better than sticking a needle in your arm.” 

“Yes, well, First Order food is mostly disgusting. But I think I'd kill for the 'fresher.” 

The girl's laugh was lovely and musical and she squeezed the arm around Kittani as they started down the hallway to the captain's quarters, a walk she'd taken before after kissing Hux on the cheek, cute, adorable, malleable Hux, and the girl stopped, turned, and placed both hands on Kittani's shoulders, her smile slipping away, her head tilting slightly to the side, a frown drawing her sandy brows together. She looked puzzled, not angry. “You're projecting. Loudly.” Her mouth turned down in distaste. “You're thinking of General Hux.” 

Kittani had been trained to lie at the same time she'd been trained to be a medic. Trained to lie and cheat and steal and patch someone up and cobble together stimulants from toxic and illegal substances and how to shoot a blaster and how to look beautiful and when to be deadly. She had not, she thought with an internal sigh, been taught how to hide her thoughts from users of the kriffing _Force_. “What do you want from me?” she asked, irritated and wishing she could be done with these stupid games, her head beginning to pound once more with the faint echoes of _Kylo Kylo Kylo._

“I am Rey Solo. My parents are Han Solo and General Leia Organa-Solo. My uncle is Luke Skywalker, the last Jedi.” The girl brushed a stray piece of hair from Kittani's face, watching the older woman tense, her blue green eyes flicker. Sympathy stirred but curiosity was stronger, curiosity and a fierce urge to protect her brother from this woman he loved and who was thinking of someone else. “But you know that, don't you? Dr. Kittani Juznik, First Order physician.” Rey's voice dipped, hardened. “Resistance spy.” 

Rey watched Kittani exhale, long and slow, tension easing out along with her breath. The woman's top-heavy mouth curved into a lopsided smile and one of her hands came up and patted Rey lightly on the shoulder. Her voice was wry. “Jedi Solo. Rey. Let me clean up. Over protein sludge, I'll tell you almost everything you want to know.” 

“ _Almost_ everything?” 

Respect slid up reluctantly from the pit of Rey's belly as Kittani murmured, “There are some secrets that aren't mine to tell.” 


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Former General Armitage Hux had been in nearly solitary confinement for fourteen standard days, visited only by droids who brought food and the disembodied voice that used a modulator and carefully chosen words to chip away at thirty-four years of First Order conditioning, training, and discipline. The voice talked of people starving, of a star system dying, of people who needed freedom more than they craved order, of fear and pain and loss. It spoke of hope, and love, and friendship. It had not spoken of betrayal._
> 
>  
> 
> _He felt it anyway._

The lights were too harsh and bright, everything bathed in a glossy, superficial glow that was just this side of painful. He blinked, trying to clear the after-effects from his eyes, as he was pushed down firmly but not unkindly into an uncomfortable metal chair, his shackled wrists in turn shackled to a fastening in the middle of the cold metal table. His fingers splayed out, palms down, anchoring himself, as the door closed and then opened and then closed again behind him. Someone moved around the table, someone who was careful not to let any part of their body brush against any part of his and yet there was a tingle of awareness up his spine as the frankly feminine curves came into view, frankly feminine curves in what was obviously a military uniform, trim brown pants tucked into knee-high, shiny black boots, an olive drab jacket with a placket that buttoned much as the First Order uniform to a small rounded collar, belted at the waist with a mahogany brown leather belt. 

Frankly feminine, familiar curves with a frankly familiar face, but sunshine golden hair cut short, framing the face, emphasizing the heart-shape and making the top-heavy upper lip seem less sexy than the sharp slash of cheekbones and the wide eyes with their slightly darker than gold lashes. A beauty mark, small, graced the edge of one cheekbone, beneath the outer corner of her right eye, and her face was set in stern lines, no hint of softness. 

“I am,” the woman said without preamble after taking the seat across from him, her small, competent hands folded only centimeters from his splayed fingers, “Major Lillia Juznik of the Resistance.” 

Former General Armitage Hux had been in nearly solitary confinement for fourteen standard days, visited only by droids who brought food and the disembodied voice that used a modulator and carefully chosen words to chip away at thirty-four years of First Order conditioning, training, and discipline. The voice talked of people starving, of a star system dying, of people who needed freedom more than they craved order, of fear and pain and loss. It spoke of hope, and love, and friendship. It had not spoken of betrayal. 

He felt it anyway. 

“I will not speak with you anymore than I would have spoken with her.” His voice was raspy, hoarse from disuse, and he watched pity flicker briefly in the deep ocean of her eyes. To his shock, her fingertips grazed against his, a light touch. His stomach cramped, hard and tight. 

“General Hux.” Her pouting, lovely mouth compressed, a tight, thin line, as he closed his hands into fists, out of her reach. “I am not as inclined to charity as my twin.” 

Hux looked at the beautiful young officer across from him, his enemy, and said quietly, “Then we have something in common.” 

Lillia tilted her head toward him, a reluctant gesture of respect. Her hands withdrew from the table. 

Hux let out a slow, careful breath, tilting his head in return. 

“Let us begin.” 

OoO 

The Knights of Ren found their Master sitting in his meditation chamber, sleek and black and metal, his hands lying loosely on his thighs, his mask firmly in place, his Force signature as completely cloaked as his body, a frigid, empty, deep well of silence. His lightsaber lay within easy reach but he did not stir as they filed into the space, the twelve Knights with their varied, malevolent red weapons, Jacen and Serenna at the front, radiating menace and threat and danger. 

“Kylo Ren. We have come to challenge you.” It was Serenna who gave voice to their shared will, voice strident, confident. 

He did not stir from his meditation pose. “We are not Sith. There is no rule of two.” His mask lifted, rotated slowly from one side of the half-circle of Knights to the other, careful to pause at each masked, robed figure. “I am still your Master.” 

Jacen grunted, setting his pike against the floor with a loud clang. “You killed the Supreme Leader. You gotta answer for your crime.” 

“The Supreme Leader is not dead,” Kylo said mildly, amusement flickering briefly from him, quickly swallowed up by the blankness surrounding him in the Force. 

“He might as well be!” Serenna yelled. “You’ve driven him mad, locked him in his own head, in with all of the echoes of the dead and the dying!” She took two quick steps forward, her sword rising, only to be locked into place as Kylo rose to his feet in one swift, predatory movement, his gloved hand held out before him. He prowled close to Serenna, his mask brushing the blade of her vibrosword, a high-pitched whine as the energy dragged across the duraplast, sparks falling to the floor. 

“If Snoke has broken under the weight of the lives he’s taken, he is weak. Weak and old and useless.” Serenna trembled in outrage as Kylo curled his hand around her throat, gently squeezing, his thumb over her windpipe. It was a move eerily like Snoke but still, still, that coiled, waiting pit of silence in the Force. He turned away from her, his hand still at her throat, to regard the other Knights, his mask once more looking at each of them in turn. “Is that who you wish to follow, my Knights? A weak, sniveling old man who was defeated by his student without ever lifting a finger defending himself?” His glove clenched tighter, drawing a choked gasp from Serenna, her fingers flexing as she tried to fight his hold over her, tried to find the flaw in the Force binding her in place, tried to suck in air around his hold. “A weak, foolish old man who was so busy digging in the head of a useless Force-null doctor that he took only a moment, a gesture, a _thought_ , to subdue?” 

Kylo Ren, the Master of the Knights of Ren, dropped Serenna to the ground, releasing her from his hand and the Force at the same time, ignoring her as she gagged and choked. “Bow, my Knights,” he growled, deep in his chest, his hand fisting before them. “Bow to your Master.” He drew his fist down in a sharp gesture. “Bow to your Emperor.” 

As one, the Knights of Ren fell to their knees. 

OoO 

On a shuttle just preparing to dock with the Resistance on D’Qar, Kittani shivered in the co-pilot’s seat. 

Next to her, Rey’s knuckles went white on the controls. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So we made it to the end. Whew. That was a ride, right? I'm so glad you came along with me for it. Keep an eye out for the sequel "And Wilt Thou Leave Me Thus?". For now, here's the Sir Thomas Wyatt poem that inspired it: 
> 
> And wilt thou leave me thus?  
> Say nay, say nay, for shame,  
> To save thee from the blame  
> Of all my grief and grame;  
> And wilt thou leave me thus?  
> Say nay, say nay!
> 
> And wilt thou leave me thus,  
> That hath loved thee so long  
> In wealth and woe among?  
> And is thy heart so strong  
> As for to leave me thus?  
> Say nay, say nay!
> 
> And wilt thou leave me thus,  
> That hath given thee my heart  
> Never for to depart,  
> Nother for pain nor smart;  
> And wilt thou leave me thus?  
> Say nay, say nay!
> 
> And wilt thou leave me thus  
> And have no more pity  
> Of him that loveth thee?  
> Hélas, thy cruelty!  
> And wilt thou leave me thus?  
> Say nay, say nay!


End file.
